


Contraction

by NamelessDragon



Series: Bound in Oblivion [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Shuri (Marvel), Established Relationship, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Imprisonment, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Hela, POV Loki (Marvel), Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Warning: Hela, Whump, emphasis on the angst, everything being kind of okay before it gets worse again, still with the handwavy science and magic, there's a lot of characters in this I'm not tagging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-01-15 15:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 73,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18501808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelessDragon/pseuds/NamelessDragon
Summary: Months after Bucky accidentally found Loki trapped in hellish isolation underground, Wakanda remains a place that has allowed them to slowly claw their way up into unsteady healing.But Asgard and Earth aren't done with them yet. The past comes calling, whether they're ready or not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing really to say about this except - welcome back to the continuing adventures of Bucky and Loki not having the best of times.
> 
> This fic will have alternating POVs as listed in the tags (which means, yes, Loki POV - though not in this chapter). Because I'm dividing my attention between multiple fics right now (but only posting this one so far), chapter updates might be a bit erratic for the first few - somewhere around every 10 days instead of once a week. As always, I'll usually post estimates/progress of updates on my [tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anamelessdragon)

When his time began to wind down, Hela felt it in her bones.

The walls of her impenetrable prison sung with weakness, the life that held them intact waning it's way out of existence. The decay progressed slowly, like grains of sand falling singly through an hour glass taller than a mountain. But eventually their trickle would end, permanently.

She hoped the old bastard suffered. She hoped he lived every moment with the knowledge that her return was inevitable, her rule certain, his ridiculous choices for peace limited in their continuity.

How Asgard would rejoice in her homecoming and the reinstatement of the older, better ways. 

She knew that he may have already groomed a new successor to continue with his idiotic vision. If they stood opposed to her, she would take pleasure in removing them of their lives.

She might even do it just for the fun of it.

Her absence from the source of her power had both weakened her and made her stronger. She could not harm the living from here, but early on in her imprisonment she had done everything she could to pull power from Asgard's people.

"This is your kingdom, now," Odin had told her, as he used Gungnir to seal her away in an empty, desolate realm. "The only kingdom you will ever rule."

He had been half right. Hel had begun barren and grey, but she was the Goddess of Death, and she had so very much time on her hands. She could not escape her prison, but to pull souls to her, to lock them away with her in this destitute realm, that she could do. 

In the beginning of life and death, most worthy souls would find their ways into the halls of Valhalla. But she had made it so now only the violent would find their end in eternal revelry and merriment. All others came to Hel - the weaklings, the pitiful, those that shared so fully in Odin's vision for a new Asgard of reigning peace that they had never so much as slain a man or woman in their life. 

She had learned from her stolen souls that eventually it had become known on Asgard that the only way to enter Valhalla would be to die with glory, in a true warrior's death.

She hoped the old bastard knew exactly why that was. That in keeping her locked away and wavering onto his new ridiculous path, he damned follower after follower for an eternity.

She did not speak with them anymore. Their torment had entertained her for a time, but not long. The vast majority of them were simpering, and their wails bored her. 

She bided her time. The old man would be gone one day. She only regretted that her power would not be enough to pull him down into this place when he passed.

But dead was better than nothing. Maybe after she was done conquering the Nine Realms, she would find a way to the halls of Valhalla herself.

It would feel so very good to gloat in Odin's face.

\----------

**Wakanda**

"You are cheating."

The accusation came out of nowhere, cutting sharply through the minimalistic beats of gqom that filled the room and drawing Bucky out of his contemplation of the game on the table in front of him.

He frowned. "What?"

Shuri leaned forward, pointing an emphatic finger at one of the pits in their board. "There were thirteen sand spheres here on our last turn, and now there are twelve."

Bucky tried to wrack his brain. He didn't _think_ he'd been distracted by any disorientation or flashbacks between then and now. "I didn't touch that pit."

She didn't let it go. "Said the cheater."

"No," Bucky protested, "said the guy who didn't _cheat_."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You are really doing this? Calling my memory into question?"

Bucky wished in resignation that he had even half a clue of why this was happening. He rubbed at the headache that was beginning to creep in. "Your memory is fantastic." 

" _I_ know that." Shuri paused, then gestured expectantly. "So? Put the sphere back."

Frustration finally colored his voice. "I didn't take the damn sphere."

"Cursing in front of the Princess of Wakanda is not going to make you any less guilty."

Bucky sighed, his shoulders heaving as he checked the table and the surrounding areas, as if there was a chance that the ball had jumped up and rolled away on its own. His eyes caught Ayo's boots where she stood against the wall, stationed in the lab while the princess met with her visitors. She was staring forward, not watching any of them directly, standing rigidly still and straight. All of her, that was, except for her spear, which had performed a very slight tilt off of its usual perfect perpendicular conformation with the floor.

It was directed at Loki.

He was sitting on a white couch, one leg folded beneath him as he stared down in concentration at the tablet in his hands, the soft waves of his hair pushed back behind his ears. The picture of quiescence.

As far as Bucky could tell, Loki had been engrossed in the new program Shuri had developed for him to create his own clothing for the last hour. 

But that didn't mean he couldn't have taken a second to mess with them when their guards were lowered. Especially since Bucky was no longer as constantly stringent when it came to keeping his magic completely locked down at all times.

Shuri noticed the target of Bucky's gaze almost immediately. "You," she said. "You are a sore loser."

Loki quirked an eyebrow, his hand roving over the tablet as he made edits to the detailed accents on what looked like some sort of long coat. "You speak as if I have any interest in what you are doing."

Shuri rolled her eyes, looking about as convinced as Bucky felt. "How did you do it? Walk me through your process."

"My process was to ignore you until you proceeded to shout at me for no reason."

A smile tugged at the corner of Shuri's mouth. "You would not hold half as firm if I brought in Okoye to question you."

There was a reaction then - a twitch of the eye. Loki sighed and lowered his tablet, carefully balancing it on his leg as he extended his hand. He unfurled his fingers, revealing the missing sand sphere nestled in his palm.

Bucky glanced at Ayo, but she was back to standing like a statue. "I thought we agreed no magic in the mountain outside of controlled environments," Bucky said.

"Excuse me?" Shuri scoffed, her irritation redirected. "May I remind you that only one of you has a history of destroying my lab equipment?"

Bucky shook his head. "You're not gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Not on your life." To Loki, she said, "Let me at least see you put it back."

Loki directed a cautious glance towards Ayo. Bucky felt his tension rise, but he forcefully shrugged it off. It wasn't like she hadn't already seen it.

"Go ahead," he said, relaxing back in his seat. "No point in trying to hide it, now."

Loki tightened his lips. His fingers twitched, and then loosened, opening until they were straight out from his palm. Green flickered in a wash around the skin of his hand, and the sphere popped out of existence. It hovered above the pit on the board for a moment, before dropping with a light plink sound.

"Amazing," Shuri said, her eyes wide and curious as she took readings with her Kimoyo Beads. "You are beginning to barely show signs of external energy production, even to my scans."

Loki twitched again, lowering his hands into his lap and softly clasping them together. He didn't rub at them as excessively as he used to with the external gauntlets, but the fidgeting habit was still there.

"I have had many opportunities for practice," he said. 

Bucky kept his face blank as Loki followed up the statement by peering at him with a pointed look tinged with amusement. 

They were going to need to have another talk later about the exact terms around Bucky's rule about bringing up their relationship around the Wakandans. Loki hadn't technically _said_ anything, but Shuri was incredibly smart and observant. She'd be able to connect the dots if given enough clues, and hell if Bucky was going to let Loki put himself in danger by blowing their cover.

Loki's expression sobered completely in response to Bucky's silence. He carefully returned his attention to his tablet, his hand moving with steady care over the screen.

Shuri was still watching Loki, seemingly oblivious to the brief tension between them. Her eyes glittered with eagerness. "What would you say to assisting the Design Group on some research projects?" Off Loki and Bucky's surprised looks, she went on. "It will be entirely experimental at first, of course. But it will give us a chance to explore the properties of vibranium as they interact with your energies straight from the source."

Loki's expression filled with wary curiosity. "And what exactly would this assistance entail?"

Shuri grinned at the lack of outright refusal, her excitement growing. "We will study only the interactions at the start. You have finished reading the notes I sent you, right?"

"I have."

"So that's why you've only been sleeping about two hours a night," Bucky commented. "Didn't think the fashion design would be taking up that much of your time."

"You could have asked," Loki said.

"I did," Bucky responded dryly. "About the third time around you called me Thor and told me not to interrupt your research."

The color drained from Loki's face, the tablet slipping from his thigh and onto the cushion beside him. He swallowed convulsively, then coughed sharply to clear his throat. "I...what?"

"It's not a big deal," Bucky assured. "I thought it was kind of funny."

Loki still looked like he was seconds away from vomiting. Bucky grew worried - he'd known that Thor was a sore subject, but he hadn't thought it would be to this extent.

Shuri flicked a sphere at Bucky's chest, glaring pointedly when she drew his gaze. "I'll send you a research proposal to your tablet," she said to Loki. "If you agree, we can set up a timeline."

Loki's gaze went to her and he nodded, some of the horror fading at the change in subject. "I'll look forward to it," he said, his voice too weak for the enthusiasm he was obviously trying to inject. He darted a distinctly uncomfortable look towards Bucky before turning his eyes on the wall.

Bucky exhaled heavily, deciding that was their cue to head out. He turned back to Shuri and gestured at the board. "Well, I think we can agree that you would have still kicked my ass even with my magical assist."

Shuri grinned. "It would be fun to test that. What do you think, Loki?"

"Don't," Bucky groaned. "He'd probably just end up taking your side against me." 

The twitch of a smile returned to Loki's face, albeit subdued. "In that case, it may actually be fairer for the two of _you_ to join forces."

"So much confidence," Shuri said. "I look forward to seeing what you have to back it up. Maybe we could even invite my brother to play - without telling him about our special rules, of course."

Bucky shook his head, rising from the table to help put away their game.

"I'm counting all of that as magical use in a controlled environment, by the way, Bucky," Shuri said. "So you can quit worrying."

"Good," Bucky said. "If T'Challa gets mad, I'm blaming everything on you."

\----------

They got back to the hut in time to help Anwuli with dinner. Loki accompanied them outdoors while they cooked, but Bucky took over his tasks after the third time he caught him staring into his tablet instead of helping to cut up vegetables. His focus on his reading was enough that the usual twitchiness that followed him being outside was greatly reduced, and Bucky didn't want to interrupt that. Especially with Ndidi nosily keeping watch over what Loki was doing, fascinated even if she didn't understand it.

When night fell and they were settled back into their hut, Loki was still staring into the light of his tablet, though now he seemed to be making new notes in addition to reading.

 _I'm glad you have something here to be interested in,_ Bucky wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if Loki would even notice. And he _was_ glad. The levels of relaxation in their existence here had grown appreciably in the past weeks. On the good days, it was almost peaceful, to the point that Bucky could almost forget about the nightmares in their individual histories.

And because he'd acknowledged that, of course his shit of a brain was going to decide he needed to get knocked down a few pegs.

The lightness of the day didn't follow him into his dreams. He cycled through images of death, heads bursting into fragments from a bullet or beneath a metal fist. He still had his memories, and full knowledge of the fact that what he was doing was wrong - but there was no control. His body continued on like an automaton, killing in cold blood, only the dull feeling of satisfaction breaking through the screams that filled his thoughts.

(" _Well done, Soldier._ ")

He lurched up into the dark, the plates of his arm sliding in preparation for explosive force before his mind caught up with his surroundings. Relief battled with nausea as he forced his hands to relax, to breathe evenly.

"Wolf."

Bucky swallowed at the sound of Loki's voice. He was still awake, though now his tablet had been set aside in favor of staring in concern.

Typical that _now_ he had to take notice of what Bucky was doing.

Air flowed out heavily through Bucky's nose in a rush. He dimly knew that he should say something to indicate he was all right.

What came out was, "I need to go for a walk."

Loki stiffened, and swiftly rose to his feet, tablet forgotten as he grasped for his ear buds. Bucky didn't tell him any different.

\----------

They followed the river for a mile and then branched off to the east, until the ground became uneven beneath quick steps. Loki walked behind him in silence, which made Bucky feel in turns guilty and grateful. At least Loki seemed to be able to handle the walks better now that they'd been happening with enough time and regularity.

_Or he's just getting better at hiding it,_ Bucky thought. 

But whatever patience Loki held faded by about mile six. Fingers reached out and closed around Bucky's wrist, stopping his progress.

"Wolf."

Bucky glanced back at him. "You okay?"

Loki ground his jaw. "Am _I_..." He trailed off and exhaled unhappily.

"It's fine," Bucky insisted. "I just need some time for my brain to reset."

Loki's grip tightened, verging into discomfort. "No. What you need is a more vigorous activity."

Bucky felt a stir low in his stomach. He clenched his jaw, turning his gaze away. "I'm not really up for sex right now," he lied.

"I did not mean that." Loki rounded to his front. "We are far enough from the tribe. There is no one nearby. We should spar."

Flashes from Bucky's dream prodded at him insistently, vacant eyes and crushed skulls and brain matter smeared over metal fingers. His mind sharply recoiled before he stubbornly tried to plow that feeling away.

He reached out for Loki with the prosthetic, pulling him in roughly. "You're not holding back," Bucky demanded. "Don't let me beat you."

Loki squared his shoulders, his eyes glittering with anticipation in the moonlight. He nodded.

\----------

It was brutal. It was vicious. In the night of Wakanda, Loki and Bucky ended their days of relaxed companionship with quick movements and harsh blows, in strained grunts and panted breaths.

There was a store of stabilizing energy in Bucky's arm, but it went untouched as he ignored every instinct for tactical retreat or activation of his beads in favor of recklessly throwing himself in with everything he had, until he felt the sting of cut skin and the throb of bruised muscles.

Loki moved _fast_ , and it was both better and worse that he was capable of fighting himself now instead of relying exclusively on a projected clone. Bucky had removed his Stabilizing Beads so he was vulnerable to every trick Loki saw fit to employ, from teleporting them from place to place to try and disorient Bucky, to physically manifested illusions that he had to pound from existence before he could refocus on his real opponent.

It forced him to stay hyper-aware of the fight, to not give an inch, and it was because of that fact that it took Bucky a while to notice that Loki was still holding back, and letting him get in hits that he could have avoided. 

About the fourth time this happened, Bucky abruptly found his frustration rising ( _you're not supposed to let me hurt you_ ) until in a flare of sudden temper he finally sent out a quick surge of energy with his next punch.

Loki's breath blew out in surprise and he backed off a step, bent double as he clamped his hands over the site of the blow.

Bucky froze, eyes wide and hair limp with sweat. Worry edged in to encourage his breathing to quicken. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

Loki quickly straightened and swept Bucky's legs out while gripping a hand into his shoulder and slamming him downwards. Bucky yelled and immediately gripped at Loki's wrist, energy crackling at his fingertips.

Then Loki's lips were on his, and Bucky felt his mind fizz in confusion that his body didn't share. A jolt of arousal rocked him and he tried to pull Loki's grip from his shoulder, to get himself upright. The hand against him resisted, grinding him down into the cold ground beneath his back.

He broke their mouths apart, heart pounding, shoving at Loki's chest to give himself a few inches of space. "What are you doing?"

"You told me to not allow you to win," Loki said, entirely too innocently.

"At _fighting_ ," Bucky hissed, bucking up against the limbs bracketing him. "Fucking isn't a competition."

A sharp grin split Loki's face, his eyes darkening with lust. "But it is so much more fun that way." 

Bucky's mind heavily disagreed, but his damn body said that wasn't a completely unappealing idea, his skin tingling from more than violence. He chased that feeling, deciding he'd been wrong - maybe it was better to have something else to focus on, a different kind of fight. Loki was definitely game, and Bucky was already planning out the best counters for that incredible strength before he'd even finished his considerations.

"You wanna get up and give me a fair shot?" Bucky tried.

Loki hummed. "You already had one. I believe I am ready to take my winnings."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Bucky said, then pressed the heel of his prosthetic up roughly against the trapped, taut length of Loki's cock, releasing the tiniest surge of energy.

Loki gasped like his lungs had been punched from his chest. His muscles quivered and then faltered as he mindlessly thrust against the touch, giving Bucky the opening he needed to roll them over. 

Loki whined on the ground, cheeks flushed, the green firefly lights spreading out from his skin now that his concentration was completely broken. He might have been getting better at taking open spaces and auditory stimuli, but sexual pleasure still tended to send him reeling, especially if mixed in with the tiniest portions of pain. Bucky felt a little guilty for knowing exactly why that was, and moreso for taking advantage of it.

Didn't mean he was going to stop, though.

"You're not the only one who knows how to cheat," Bucky said, breathless, his other hand gripping into the line of a slim hip.

Loki sucked in air through his nose, arching further into his touch, his brow furrowed. The firefly lights began to cluster in close to his skin, the results of the practice he'd mentioned to Shuri earlier coming fully into play. "I...am not done fighting."

"Good," Bucky said, braced and eager for his next move. "I'm counting on it."

\----------

They managed to hold focus for a while, but inevitably the competition faded away in favor of sating the blaze of their individual lusts. Bucky tried to keep the pace slow, but Loki persuaded him insistently in both touch and words, until they were both struggling to hold themselves back, to make it last.

Bucky latched his teeth sharply against Loki's skin as he thrust into him, thighs straining, the steel grip of Loki's grasp nearly collaring his neck.

"Yes," Loki gasped beneath him, "use your strength, Wolf - let me _feel_ \- ah!"

His thumb dug firmly into the front of Bucky's throat, stimulating instincts for fight or flight in a spark down his spine. Bucky tossed the hair out of his eyes and redoubled his efforts, moving his teeth to the underside of Loki's jaw, using the energy in his prosthetic to gently weaken the skin enough that it reddened beneath his bite.

Loki seized around him and keened, the sound echoing out amongst the thousands of singing nocturnal insects, and then again when Bucky gave him a matching mark on the other side of his jaw. 

"Please," Loki panted, and Bucky knew he was about at the end of his control.

"Go ahead," Bucky said, almost shivering with the sensations coursing through his nerves. "No point in holding it off for much longer."

Loki dropped his hand from Bucky's neck and felt for his own length between them, grasping in firm and urgent strokes. Bucky quickly sought the perfect angle for them both, dragging repeatedly over the spot that made Loki shut his eyes and flush richly enough that Bucky could see the color even in the dim light. 

Bucky kept his own eyes open, not wanting to miss any part of the display - the open-mouthed moans and arched neck, the way Loki's hair spilled over the ground in a dark and curling halo, and the wisps of green light that managed to break through as the rest of his self-restraint failed him.

It had become one of the more comforting things in Bucky's present world, right up there with the tranquility of the farm, or Shuri's easy laugh and bright mind - the knowledge that he could let loose, here - that _Loki_ could do the same - and no one would get hurt.

They moved together, until Bucky felt the build-up of stimulation hone to a concentrated edge of shooting pleasure that intensified until his nerves felt scoured by it, only amplified by the way that Loki quivered and tensed muscles tight in kind beneath him.

Loki looked like he had already toppled over the edge, and was trying to hold back the crash landing through sheer force of will. " _Wolf-_ "

"Come on, gorgeous," Bucky urged. "I'm right there with you."

They broke together. Every care and thought faded into numbness as the end to the fall erased everything but that single pinpoint of spasming bliss. 

It was over too quickly. Bucky felt his muscles go limp, and rolled himself onto the ground next to Loki, the both of them shuddering and panting in the aftermath as they looked up at the stars.

"I'm okay with calling that one a draw," Bucky said when he'd mostly caught his breath.

Loki's chest heaved, his gaze going hazy and relaxed. "That would be...agreeable."

After, Loki used his magic and cleaned the dirt and fluids from their bodies and their clothes. Bucky dressed and then stared at Loki's still-bared skin, now almost unmarked again, even in the spots where Bucky had tried to give him a - literal - extra bite. The sight calmed him when the thoughts of blood and death tried to encroach again. 

"Something on your mind, Wolf?" Loki asked when Bucky's scrutiny continued to stretch.

Bucky settled back down on the ground next to him, his own skin tingling under fabric with bruises and scrapes and the bite marks that decorated his chest and shoulders. "Was just thinking...somehow I managed to get lucky enough to end up with someone I don't have to worry so much about hurting."

"That is humorous, considering how frequently I wish you would worry a good deal less," Loki countered, completely serious.

Bucky gave him a light punch on the arm. "Don't bullshit me now. You could hardly think straight fifteen minutes ago." He heaved out a sigh. "Thanks, by the way."

Loki blinked, and something in him seemed to relax even further. He sat up and reached for Bucky's prosthetic, rubbing along the grooves in his palm as he examined it. "The princess has an astonishing mind," he stated. 

Bucky let the gentle handling spark low coils of renewed interest. Had to love that super-soldier stamina. "You thinking about accepting her offer?"

"There hardly seems a reason not to," Loki murmured.

Bucky waited a beat, curling his fingers against the touch. "But?"

Loki shrugged, eyes still on his task. "There is a sacrifice to be made - in order to expedite my understanding and control of my magic's workings, I must simultaneously relinquish such knowledge."

Bucky sighed, unable to pretend he wasn't disappointed at Loki's lingering doubts. "She's not gonna use it to hurt you."

Loki let go of Bucky's hand. "No," he agreed, but there was something else there, just beneath the surface. "And besides...I am well aware of my place."

"Enough to mess around with your magic in front of one of the Dora," Bucky couldn't help but point out. 

Loki winced and exhaled through his mouth. "That was a poorly executed jest," he allowed. "Stupid, as you would say."

Bucky wanted to backtrack immediately, but he shared Loki's view, and anything he said that was convincing enough for Loki to believe otherwise would be a lie. "Doing something like Shuri's experiment would go a long way in demonstrating more of your trustworthiness."

"And therein lies the problem," Loki said, mouth pulled up in bitterness. "That is not one of my known qualities."

"Maybe." Bucky shrugged a shoulder. "But I already know you wouldn't give _me_ anything I couldn't take. Not when it counts." 

Loki's head whipped around, a sharp gaze latching onto Bucky for a moment before the vehemence left his eyes. His voice lowered to a near whisper. "Yet another reason for me to leave well enough alone."

"What does that mean?"

Loki shook his head. "It is nothing. I...will be considering her offer."

"Good," Bucky said, pushing back the frustration at Loki's capitulation. "You ready to head back, or you want to keep hanging out here naked? Not that I'm complaining about the view, but I think we've disturbed the local wildlife enough."

Loki's clothes solidified over his body as he reached out to grip a hand into Bucky's hair, drawing him in for a kiss before unfolding himself from the ground. "I was waiting for you."

"Right," Bucky said, having forgotten that this time it was _his_ overwhelming anxiety that had disrupted their schedule.

As soon as they got within view of the hut, the ease in Loki's posture visibly fell away. He didn't answer when Bucky asked what was wrong, just moved forward with cautious steps until Bucky could eventually see for himself what had spooked him.

Sitting on the straw roof of their hut, nearly hidden by the shadows of night, was a large black bird. A raven.

Strange, but not something that Bucky would normally be overly concerned about. 

Loki, on the other hand, looked like he had seen a ghost.

The raven leapt down to the edge of the roof, fluffing out its feathers as it stared down at them.

"Hugin," Loki said, voice nearly a croak.

The bird cawed, hopping excitedly to the opposite side of the hut.

Bucky instinctively moved himself closer to Loki. "You know what it is."

"A message," Loki said, and if he'd paled earlier that day at the mention of Thor, now he'd gone white as death. "Odin calls."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the second chapter, and our first jump into Loki's still fairly terrible headspace for this series. Hoping to have chapter 3 up by May 31st, assuming my new current oneshot doesn't derail me completely.

_The world was golden and warm, filled with a soft light and the fresh scent of pine._

_Loki stood at the edge of a large lake, soft grass a cushion beneath his feet. The tranquil water softly lapped at the shore. He was alone._

What is this?

_He turned to take in the scope of his environment. A moment ago, he had been fighting for his life. Now, he was here._

Is that it, then? Am I dead?

_A green light shimmered before him. As it approached, he felt the stirrings of familiarity, combined with a longing so strong it nearly choked him._

_A voice rang out. "Loki, you must run!_ "

The words followed Loki into waking, into the brightness of sunlight that spilled in through a small opening behind the cloth door of the hut. The sound of distant voices filtered in with it, a sharp raking feeling against his anxious thoughts, making him very aware of the fact that he had somehow managed to fall asleep without the use of his noise cancelling devices. He instinctively reached for them without thinking, then forced himself to drop his hand before he could grasp them, furious with himself.

That just as soon transitioned into another seize that threatened his lungs as he came to the realization that not only was he alone in the hut, but there was another unwelcome fact of a more immediate concern.

Some of the voices that he could hear outside were those of the Avengers.

Loki breathed out warily. He carefully tested the borders of his implants - they stayed firmly in place when he signaled for their release, his magic fully bound and inaccessible in a way it had not been in weeks.

He grimaced, flexing his fingers, and carefully listened for Bucky's location, magic humming uselessly under his skin, frustrated that he would have fallen asleep _now_ of all times.

But the last few days had been of an especially poor quality when it came to rest. Though he had chosen to ignore the summons, Odin's raven had still not returned to his master.

Loki did not know what that meant. He did not wish to know what that meant. It was a balm that the Allfather had not risked himself by attempting to appear, to come to wring out of Loki whatever possible use he sought in person.

Though he wanted nothing more than to remain in his bed, Loki forced himself to dress. His clothes were not Asgardian leather, and no metal adorned them, but through the princess's device he had been able to fashion for himself enough layers in an approximation of his old favored appearance that it at least felt somewhat like armor.

He ignored the pounding of his heart in his ears and adjusted the collar of his coat as he moved aside the cloth at the door of the hut.

An immediate grating caw signaled his exit. He whirled around to face the feathered body perched on the roof, and noted the remnants of eggshells and berry stems beside him. Anwuli must have been bringing him food, as she tended to do all creatures, no matter how dangerous or unwanted.

He hissed in aggravation as he felt the echo of pain from the careless noise resonate in his ears. "I told you, I do not _care_."

"Talking to birds, now?"

Loki winced as his fears were realized. He took a moment to gather himself, attempting to slide on a more relaxed expression as he turned to the speaker. 

The Widow was leaning against the side of the hut, alone, a half-eaten plum in her hand. "Odin didn't send us, if that's what you're wondering," she said, before taking another bite.

"Of course not," Loki said, carefully attentive of both her and the movement of bodies in immediate proximity of the farm. "If he had, you would have already had me in chains."

She shrugged. "You can't really blame me for being cautious our last meeting. Especially now that you've managed to give yourself a hefty upgrade."

"Call it that," Loki said, keeping himself still and straight before her gaze. "What do you want?"

She tilted her head, her offhanded stance growing more serious. "Barnes told us you saved his life."

Loki raised his eyebrows. "A fact, I think, that you would not consider to even the ground between us."

Something changed on her face, but she held her stoicism well. He wondered if she was thinking of Barton.

"T'Challa told us you're not a threat," she said, almost as if in reminder to herself. "I trust him."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "And?"

She performed another shrug. "There's no and. You already know what would happen if you ever tried to turn on Earth again."

The idea could not have been further from his thoughts, a fever daydream of a time long lost. His new self did not have goals of grandeur, and the part of him that sought station and attention had withered and cracked like crumbling birch. Even the rage he once had was tempered, now borne only of terror, his mind and emotions effectively torn to shreds from his long confinement.

He managed better now than he had in months past. But he was also aware of the precipice beneath himself, a paper thin layer of confidence all that kept him from falling into the same ruinous thoughts and instincts that would plague him beyond all function.

His old self well may have found enough delight in taunting Natasha Romanoff to override his sense of self-preservation. Now he knew better than to draw such unwanted attention, to challenge when all that would await him for such an action would be punishment - and with it, likely the removal of whatever shreds of self onto which he had manage to hold. 

"I concede your point," he answered, and then turned away from her to seek out Bucky, needing answers for what the outcome of this new event would be.

It seemed now that despite his attempts to leave the situation to fade into nothingness, some action would be taken.

She did not follow him. His relief at that, as well as the fact that it seemed most of the curious village children were occupied with their schooling, loosened some of his stiffness.

He moved first towards the livestock pens, sensing a change in the atmosphere there. He felt a relieved jolt as he caught sight of Bucky, the shoulder of his artificial limb glinting as it reflected the sunlight. He'd shaved since Loki had seen him last, and wore a thin sleeveless shirt to aid in the ease of movement as he performed his chores.

A baby goat was braced against his torso, the red-furred animal eagerly suckling at the end of a bottle. While it was distracted, Anwuli pinched a section of its hide to administer injections.

To the side of them stood Captain America. He was in full uniform, though the state of it was ragged and torn, the star on his chest blackened like charcoal. He noticed Loki almost immediately, and the easy smile he had been directing at the display before him faded with a somber crease.

Loki's steps slowed with caution.

Bucky turned his gaze once he noticed his friend's expression, and then his own contented smile was faltering. Loki felt a squeeze of childish anxiety, suddenly feeling like an intruder. He should have remained in the hut.

Anwuli was the last to notice him. She rubbed at the goat's back and instructed Bucky to lower it onto the ground. Then she pointed to another of the goats.

"Captain, if you would like to help me with the next one."

Thankfully, Bucky was quick to take the hint and separated from them, easily vaulting the pen gate and jogging over to him. 

"You might have woken me," Loki said, unable to keep the bite from his voice.

Bucky frowned at his tone. "You needed it. You haven't slept for the better part of a week."

Bitterness coated Loki's response. "Is that not how you would prefer me? Sickly and in need of care?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, voice thick with sarcasm, "I liked it so much that I had to all but beg you every day for a week to let Shuri help make you better." He pushed his hair back from his face, sighing. "I'm sorry. I didn't know they'd be here so soon."

"You called for them," Loki realized, feeling the anger wither into dullness. What right did he have to question such an action, to feel any sort of hurt? The Wolf had sworn his loyalty to others long before he'd pulled Loki out of the ground. 

Bucky watched him with an unreadable expression. Loki wanted nothing more than to grip into him, to transport them far from the farm, to have the space and the privacy to make him _his_. The sickness that accompanied the thought of being in open space was nowhere near enough to deter such a thought.

But he kept himself stiff and apart, as if they were no more than simple acquaintances. Lying, at least, was still an ability he possessed with some skill.

"We tried ignoring the situation," Bucky said. "I don't want to wait around for it to blow up in our faces."

Loki swallowed, and felt the dullness spread into a boulder that pressed against his lungs. "So instead you would walk yourself into the explosion."

The metal hand curled tight. "I'm not planning on giving Odin anything he wants. If all this is just him trying to take you again, I'm gonna be a lot less forgiving than I was the last time."

The words were comforting, but Loki still could not help but dread the drop into an unseen pit that he feared was hidden in their future.

He felt resignation fill him. "Then I will go with you."

It had not even been a full year. He had only recently just begun to calm his mind enough to find interest in activities with any sort of regularity, to think beyond the desire for silence and isolation.

Now Odin desired his presence, wanted to wring whatever final use he could find from the life of the castoff infant monster he had taken. Or perhaps he had some other punishment in mind, one he would attempt to apply as recompense for Loki's audacity at managing his escape.

A half smile pulled at the corner of Bucky's mouth as he shook his head, directing angry eyes skyward. "I'll be happy for the back-up, but you don't have to put yourself through this shit."

Loki's throat felt very tight. He felt as if the moment he lost his focus on keeping his feet he would fall into the yawning openness above him, and fall forever.

"I will not be left behind while you run off to challenge the Allfather," he insisted.

Bucky stepped closer, but stopped short of any kind of touch. "I wouldn't say no to another punch, but I'm not stupid enough to just throw myself into a fight with him. We'd be there just long enough to get him off our backs. With Shuri's tech. If things go south, I've got plenty of energy stored in the arm."

"And you'll have us," the Captain said as he approached, evidently having finished assisting with the livestock. He nodded tersely. "Loki."

"Captain," Loki responded, then tightened every muscle to keep himself from giving into the desire to withdraw even a single step.

"Shuri's on her way, too," Bucky said, looking between them. "When she gets here we can find out where we need to be to meet with Odin."

Loki heard the words, and felt the echoes of restraints burning into his skin. He pressed his thumb into his palm. 

"And then what," he asked, his voice still coming out fainter than he intended.

"We'll find out what he wants," the Captain said, "and deal with whatever comes after."

"And then what do you expect _me_ to do?" Loki clarified with growing fury. "Talk? In our last encounter the Allfather did not even wish me to _move_ , let alone speak."

Bucky's expression darkened, and for a moment he looked every bit the wolf the people had named him. Then he pointedly raised his wrist where his beads were located, and made a gesture. Instantly, the pressure over Loki's magic dissipated.

The relief lasted for a moment before green light spilled around him in frenetic movement and he instantly fought to bring it back inside of himself. He saw the Captain tense at the display, watching the lights with a bit of open-mouthed surprise. 

But there was no worry visible on Bucky's face, only the continuation of an intent stare. "It's not going to be up to him."

\-------------

They awaited the princess's arrival.

The Widow and the Falcon had joined them. The others who had come before - the red witch and the being they called the Vision - would evidently not be present for their undertaking.

Loki had remained among the others long enough to impress upon them Odin's capabilities and power before drifting back to his hut to allow them their discussion for a plan alone.

He did not venture inside of it for long, suddenly needing to prove his worth as an effective warrior - one that did not hide himself away no matter how much he longed to ease his mind of the stimulation that surrounded it. He fought to the point of pain to keep himself present when his thoughts threatened to drift into the ease of of stillness, the resulting tension creating pulsing points in his temples. 

_You have had more than enough time for healing,_ he thought of his erratic emotions.

Light danced around his fingers; he set it flying free and then drew it back. He tried with effort to withdraw it back into his body completely, as he had been able to do before. The self-suppression lasted only for a moment before green light shot back out like a spring released from a great weight.

He had almost grown used to this, the wrongness beneath his skin. Power that should have never been his to bear, too easily descending into uncontrollable and erratic. He felt everything far too keenly, knew each of his own cells, felt the workings of his blood and organs. 

The sun climbed as he practiced, and before long it was well into midday. The air around him was far too warm, but even this did not hold the same consequence for him as it once did. His skin did not swelter, and he did not wilt or become ill from the extremes.

A Frost Giant who did not mind the heat. Now he was an abomination even to the true monster beneath.

Off in the distance, Bucky spoke with the Captain as he finished his chores. While the serene happiness of their expressions did not quite return to the extent it had existed before Loki had interrupted their visit, they gravitated towards one another with the ease of friendly companionship. Sometimes one would speak some words that would have the other smile or laugh.

Loki had compromised and returned his earbuds after he'd found that fact made him grind his teeth and nearly send his magic into a destructive pulse far too close to their hut. Now he was trying not to notice, trying not to watch them.

He was doing a poor job.

 _You are being unreasonable,_ he told himself, but that did not make the feelings simply disappear.

"You still haven't told him, have you?"

Loki had felt her coming, but Princess Shuri's voice even muffled through the devices in his ears still made his blood pump faster in startlement. The green around his fingers pulsed brighter, unbidden, springing up in a small cloud of twitching lights that only grew more chaotic as his frustration at his break in concentration burned in his chest.

He did not see any of the women that made up the kingdom's most prized soldiers, but that did not mean there were not any present.

He quickly reinstated the full imprisonment of his magic, ignoring the feel of it writhing within him before it settled back into the familiar yoke he had placed upon it. Then, reluctantly, he also allowed his full hearing to return.

"I beg your pardon," Loki asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

She moved into his line of sight, bringing his gaze up. "Do not pretend you are dense. I'm talking about my brother's offer to reprogram your implants. It has been months. And now you're going to agree to _this_?"

"The king was the one who appointed the Wolf as my keeper. If he wishes it otherwise, he may announce it himself." He belatedly noticed that she was dressed in clothes that appeared much more stiff compared to her lab uniforms or casual wear, with a pair of fangs braced against her chin.

She smiled at his scrutiny. "I'm coming with you. Just to ensure someone who can properly manage my technology is present."

Loki felt the lingering stress at her presence loom closer to fear. "The Wolf has knowledge," he protested, attempting to keep his voice even.

"Yes, but apparently you have decided that he will have his hands full managing _you._ "

Loki let his eyes fall shut. He took a steadying breath. "If I am not contained," he said, "fate has proven time and time again that there are those who would seek to contain me, whether I will it or not. And I will not risk..." He stopped himself, grinding his jaw, his gaze directed down the hill where Bucky was pouring out fodder for the attentively gathered livestock. 

He felt an ache begin to grow in his chest. _Do you think he would stay at your side if he knew you had been fully set loose?_

_Are you so desperate for affection that you will continue to chance the return of eternal imprisonment?_

_Do nothing. Allow others to choose for you. What good have your efforts at independence ever brought you?_

_If you allow this control to remain even when you have been given a way out, you may as well have never been unleashed from your tomb at all._

And then came the thought within each of those thoughts, pulsing like the heart of a great beast against the walls that bordered it - _I am afraid. And I have nothing without him._

"I thank you again for your offer," Loki said, his nails digging sharply into his palm. "By your leave, I will refuse it." _Let this be the end of it. I know well that I remain broken by your clever mind. Do not make me beg to be allowed to keep these shackles, to prevent the invitation of a worse torment._

There it was, then - the crease of sadness and pity, of heavy guilt. As if she had not done something wondrous by managing to discover the means to bind a god when she had been even more of a child than she was now.

It had been so very easy for him to hate her once. To curse her for being so strong of mind and yet so ignorant. And then to hate her more for her compassion in the aftermath - a feeling, he was still quite sure, that should have been directed at a million others who were much more deserving of it. 

Loki knew better now than to question the genuineness of such a display, at least in the moment. The Princess of Wakanda had been a woman of her word. She and her brother had allowed Loki to stay rather than trade him to Odin when they'd had the chance. 

That did not mean Loki would grow complacent. The part of him that wondered just when his welcome would be outlasted was far from gone.

\-----------

They gathered.

Loki found himself in the midst of a circle of people presenting themselves as his allies. He knew better - the few Avengers that had come were there to ensure the safety of the world from him, and not the other way around. It did not matter how they wished to phrase it.

It was only further proving his point of the folly of being released from Wakanda's hold. Even the princess's presence was circumspect - her second set of control beads would be on hand to restrain him if he caused any problems.

_But only because you allow it. She has been insisting on your freedom. Why do you doubt?_

He did not know. And he knew that if he were to think on it any further, his own rationalizations for her behavior would continue to spiral unfavorably. Another result of the lasting damage to his mind.

As if any of it mattered. As if even without his implants she could not already have in place all manner of technologies to overpower and bind him, to crush his magic down and turn his form to static, where all he would be capable of doing would be to hear the echoes of his own screaming thoughts as they beat themselves uselessly against the walls of his mind.

Something caused a burning sting the back of his hand. He twitched, his eyes directing downwards to the metal fingers that were just shy of grazing his wrist.

Bucky was watching him quietly, his gaze intent and full of promise. He had changed into clothes suited for combat. He gave a small nod of encouragement before turning away, likely not wishing to be caught lingering by his friends.

The Falcon spoke first, tone dubious. "So what are we going to do - just follow the magic bird?"

"At least this one's actually alive," the Widow said.

"You're trying to personally offend me. That's cool."

"We'll follow Loki's lead," the Captain said, voice even despite the absurdity of the words. "Do you have any idea of where it wants us to go?"

Loki, reluctantly, held out his arm. "Hugin."

There was a caw, and the raven immediately lighted on his wrist. The claws gripped in for better purchase, but Loki's skin was too durable for them to penetrate.

He swallowed. "Where is the Allfather?"

The answering caw was loud enough to again spear him with pain, but Loki heard the words contained within it. He also felt in the sound the echoes of his lost childhood, the watchful eyes of his father's ravens hounding the steps of his mischief.

"A coastline to the north," he said for the benefit of those listening, even as every muscle in his body strung whipcord tight and he began to feel very far away. "In Norway."

If he hadn't already suppressed his magic himself, he was sure it would have been lashing about wildly.

"Are we teleporting or taking the quinjet," Bucky asked, voice low.

"I would assume that not everyone present would be comfortable with submitting themselves to such a form of travel," Loki said, still feeling a bit like he was outside of his own body. "And having an aircraft on hand would be...beneficial." _In the case that you do not have me available for return transport._

Bucky was watching his face carefully. Loki wondered how much of his inward crumbling was on display. It was both a blessing and a curse, to have someone so attentive to detail having taken charge of him.

"You should just teleport the aircraft with us," Shuri said.

Loki frowned as he stared at her.

"I am not giving up the chance to experience this," she challenged. "Bucky's told me how easy it is for you to zip about Wakanda. You really expect me to believe that you would not be able to manage all of us and a small jet?"

Loki gazed up at the three Avengers to see their reaction to the proposal. There was a fair amount of hesitation, but no one openly objected.

The Widow shrugged. "It'll definitely be faster," she said, turning her gaze directly on Loki. "Are there any cons to that plan?"

"It will not be nearly as subtle," Loki said, keeping his voice flat with a careful stringency. "With smaller workings I have been able to mask myself, but something of that level will announce our location quite visibly to any who would care to look."

Bucky frowned. "Is Odin isolated?"

Loki sent him a brief glance. "I do not know."

"And this won't turn any of us into frogs," the Falcon said, his discomfort with the idea of being moved by Loki's magic lingering.

"Transmogrification and teleportation are two completely different spells," Loki said with some irritation.

"He means he'll have to wait to do it after we land," Bucky said.

In response, the Captain raised his eyebrows in reproval, but his expression was not without humor. "We'll keep an eye on our surroundings to make sure there are no surprises."

\-----------

They moved to the quinjet. Hugin had moved himself to Loki's shoulder as he placed one hand upon its smooth surface and gratefully accepted Bucky's grasp in the other, metal curling about his palm. The others took each other hand in hand in a line, with the princess gripping into Bucky's flesh hand first and then offering her other to the Captain.

Loki's throat felt very dry. He very much wished he could return to the hut with Bucky, could sit upon his bed in silence with walls that would block out the rest of the world. Or even to transport them somewhere remote within Wakanda, so that he would have a chance for one final demonstration of the devotion he had been gifted.

He released his magic, and gathered energy in preparation. There was no need for much build up - he simply sensed the forms of those around him, saw his destination, and then _moved._

They were transported to an expanse of green cliff-side. Salt hung heavy on the air, waves cresting against rock in a surge of noise. The air was filled with a staggering coolness in comparison to Wakanda's tropical climate.

None of that was as jarring as Loki's sudden realization that his magic's wildness had softened. What was more, the world around him did not feel as wholly oppressive with its sensations as it had a moment ago.

Hugin took to the air, sailing along the gusts of wind in flight away from them. The Falcon immediately released a mechanical winged drone from his back to follow.

Bucky was coiled with readiness beside Loki, and had not missed his confusion. "What is it?"

"It's as if someone has placed a blanket over my power," Loki answered, still carefully taking in the way he felt. "Though different from the usual suppression. It is not crushing, just...less."

"We are outside of Wakanda," Shuri said, taking scans with her beads. "The energy of vibranium would be absent here. Since you took the herb, it's likely it feeds into your magic."

Bucky looked mildly alarmed. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," Loki said abruptly with sureness. "It is like the earbuds, but for each of my senses. The world is not screaming at me any longer."

"He's still carrying enough energy to rival a nuclear attack," Shuri noted. "Just somewhat less of one."

The Falcon had pressed his fingers into a screen upon his left bracer. "There's no one nearby, except a single person to the south. It's definitely Odin, but he's completely unarmed."

The Widow moved closer to peer at the screen. "Any armor or visible defenses?"

The Falcon's head shook in answer. "Not so much as a codpiece."

The Captain turned on Loki. "Should we move in?"

In answer, Loki forced himself to walk forward. His magic was much easier to manage, no longer surging with an overabundance of gathered energy. For the first time since Hugin's arrival, he felt some confidence in his own abilities.

He still came to a stop far out reach when he found Odin, dressed only in simple cloth, staring out over the ocean. Hugin had come to rest on his shoulder. Gungnir was not with him.

When he had attacked them in Wakanda, Odin's power had shrieked in kind with his rage and purpose. Now Loki could only sense the barest tendrils of it, weakened and fading fast. 

He was truly dying.

 _Father,_ a small part his mind treacherously named him, and Loki hated that even the tiniest amount of him felt such an emotion.

"The energy he holds is very faint," Shuri said, her devices seconding what Loki's magic felt. "And deteriorating."

"I should speak with him alone," Loki said, suddenly sick with certainty of the fact.

Bucky's eyes were full of protest and an anger that wished heavily for an outlet. The plates of his arm adjusted themselves. "The second I think something is wrong, I'm diving in."

A surge of feeling filled Loki - he wanted to take his Wolf close, to grip into the steady frame and taste him again. He had some hope now that perhaps he would be able to do so after they were finished here.

"Thank you," he said.

With reluctance, he moved away from them. The winds became very still in proximity to the Allfather, a peace descending in the air.

Loki did not feel half as much at ease inside of himself. He did not venture too close to Odin.

Odin kept his eyes on the ocean as he spoke. "I am happy that you came. I was beginning to think I would not be able to hold on for quite as much time as you would require."

Loki narrowed his eyes and kept his distance, not trusting the Allfather's tone. "And I will be happy if you were to dispense with any pleasantries and say what you wish to say. If you had only called me here for a simple farewell, then there would have been no need for such ceremony."

Odin still did not turn to face him; his voice remained light. "Your mother calls to me. She tells that me she saw you."

Loki froze, his heart pounding faster. He clenched his hands to keep them from shaking. _("Loki, you must run!")_ "Your mind must be suffering lasting effects from my spell."

"Ah, yes. She would have been proud of that." He moved towards a large rock. "I have considered that I was wrong concerning my assumptions for the intentions that drove your most recent crime."

Loki felt as if his tongue would turn to ash in his mouth. His mind raced through a thousand responses, from vengeful to despairing. He spoke none of them, his tumultuous emotions roiling unspoken. _You cannot do this,_ he thought helplessly. _Just because you are dying does not mean you can act as if all is forgiven._

Odin did not seem concerned at his lack of response - was likely grateful for it. He settled himself upon stone, and patted the surface beside him. "Come, sit. I do not have much time. He should be here momentarily."

Loki did not have to ask for clarification, and even if he had, it would have been answered within a few seconds' time. Before his panic could fully manifest there was a brilliant light as the Bifrost surged down beside them, searing its mark into earth.

And when it faded, Thor stood before him.


	3. Chapter 3

The meadow that they were standing in was expansive and scenic, the grass around them overgrown and untrodden, with green sloping hills bracketing their perimeter. The Norwegian Sea stretched before them, the surface calm and flat. The temperature was a lot colder than Bucky would have liked, but it wasn't freezing. 

It was a nice place. Peaceful, even.

It was also a fucking _terrible_ defensive position. They were all completely exposed, and not one of them was wearing an inch of camouflage. 

Alien god and War Dog attacks aside, Bucky was coming to the realization that he'd had an idea of but hadn't truly appreciated just how comfortable he'd become with living in Wakanda. Not until he was faced with infinite awareness of the fact that there was no special technological barrier blocking him from view.

He glanced at Steve, knowing that he wouldn't have half as much of the same concerns. At least the Captain America uniform had been darkened so it was no longer displaying giant targets on his more vulnerable spots. And Shuri had given Steve some kind of new prototype shield from one of the members of the Design Group, so he wasn't running into this completely weaponless.

Wilson's Redwing was airborne and scanning the skies in a constant loop, which also did a lot for Bucky's nerves. He needed to keep most of his focus forward, to the trio of bodies beside the cliff.

Loki's body language had screamed cautious defense when faced with the new arrival. Thor had walked right up to him and got in his face, and Bucky had taken his gun from its sling and immediately looked down the scope before his brain caught up with his instincts. He didn't fire, carefully watching their faces, the way Thor's brow was drawn low with something that didn't quite look like full-on anger but might head in that direction. Loki's lips were pressed tightly together and his shoulders were squared, his eyes darting between the new arrival and Odin - who seemed content to just relax and take in the damn view with his bird while the tension rose behind him.

"You can stand down, Buck," Steve said. "Thor's a friend. I still don't think he knew about Loki."

Bucky tried to dial down the physical projections of his urge for violence, but he didn't lower the gun. Friend or not, he wasn't going to discount the possibility that Odin had told the same untruths to Thor that he had tried to sell everyone else. "Oh, yeah? When's the last time you saw the guy?"

"Long enough that they probably have one or two issues that need airing out," Wilson said. "And is it just me, or is it getting darker?"

"There is a growing density of nimbostratus clouds," Shuri said. "It began as soon as Thor arrived." She looked towards Bucky. "Loki is holding back. He would not do the same if he believed he was in immediate danger."

Bucky heard her words. He still kept his gaze mostly on the proceedings, hating the length of distance between him and Loki. He couldn't clearly hear what was being said by Thor, could only continue reassuring himself as Loki's face remained blank despite its total loss of color from the stress of this new development.

After several minutes, Thor's posture lost some of its anger. He tried to move even closer to Loki; Bucky kept himself from pulling the trigger through sheer force of will as Loki quickly matched Thor's steps backwards to keep the same length of space between them. Thankfully, Thor faltered and stopped his advance - his face creased even further in confusion.

"Thor didn't know," Romanoff said as she watched the interaction. She glanced at Steve. "You were right."

Wilson swung Redwing a bit closer to the display, hand raised to his goggles as he checked readings. "So is he trying to fight him or is he actually happy to see the guy?"

"He's in shock," Shuri said. "As far as he knows, his brother has just come back from the dead."

"Then maybe something good will come out of this," Steve said.

Bucky was still twitchy, not quite ready to share in Steve's optimism. "Thor's the new king as soon as their dad dies, right?"

"That is generally how the line of inheritance in a monarchy works," Shuri said dryly. "What are you worried about this time?"

Bucky kept his voice as unemotional as he could manage. "Last time Thor and Loki interacted on Earth, Thor took Loki into space with total disregard for federal law and the World Security Council."

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "Didn't realize you were such a stickler for the rules, Barnes."

"Loki's a god," Romanoff said. "Fury let Thor take him in the first place because he figured his own people would have been better equipped for sentencing."

"We'll talk to him," Steve said. "Make sure we're all on the same page before anything gets decided."

"So what if he hauls him to Asgard, anyway?" Wilson asked. "Odin won't be around. Kinda thought you'd be over the moon to get the guy off your back."

Bucky breathed out. He firmed his grip on his gun and stared with more precise attention through the scope. "Yeah."

\-----------

"I thought you dead!"

Loki stepped back at Thor's advance. He glanced towards Odin, wondering if this was his ultimate plan, allow Thor to try his hand at attacking him. There would be no devices on hand specifically geared towards Thor's might.

But the Allfather was acting as if he hadn't even noted Thor's arrival. Convenient, for him, to have the ability to ignore both of his sons in such a crucial moment.

"I am not," Loki said, holding himself ready for attack. "Your father might have informed you of such a fact."

Thor's eyes narrowed in confusion, turning towards Odin, and then back towards Loki. He shook his head. "I saw - Kurse's blade."

"Quite deadly. Just not quite as quick a defeat as we imagined." Loki struggled to keep himself from thinking too fully on just how slow and lingering a defeat it had been. "My magic was able to bring me back from the brink for a time. But by then his blood had already infected me, and the deterioration thereafter was more than thorough enough to finish the job."

Thor gripped Mjolnir tight. "So why not tell me? Where have you been? I _mourned_ you."

Loki felt bitter humor fill him, and he did not want to answer. He remembered that Thor had made his views concerning any further betrayals from Loki quite clear. He was certain the revenge he had taken against the Allfather soon after would more than count as the final strike against him.

"I found a cure for my illness," he said, and spared a glance towards the others gathered. Bucky was positioned ahead of the group with his weapon raised - an unflinching sentry. Loki allowed the sight to impart some self-assuredness before he turned back to Thor. "And I would quite like to get this over with so that I may leave you to tend to your new kingdom, Your Majesty."

Those words seemed to penetrate. Thor scowled, his gaze looking Loki up and down, taking in his clothing. His voice came out low. "What has happened to you?"

Loki felt an agonized twinge around his heart. He felt some of that old anger stir, but it was weak. "I daresay it was nothing you wouldn't approve of."

Thor's frown deepened. "You helped me. You stayed your imbalance long enough to save Jane and avenge our mother."

(" _Loki, you must run!_ ")

"I also banished the Allfather into exile on Earth," Loki said. "Powerless and senile. And then I took the throne."

"What? But father never left..." Thor trailed off, the creeping realization plain on his face.

Loki smirked, pretending that his anxious thoughts were not bracing themselves for a violent reaction. He was quite sure that no matter how powerful he became, Mjolnir's enchantment would mean the hammer could yet bear him to the ground if used properly.

"There," he said. "Now you see that there is no need for this, your poor attempt at amends. Worry not, brother - I will be causing Asgard no further trouble. I am quite content with where I have ended up."

The words just made Thor's scowl deepen further, as if by speaking them Loki had proven that he was madder than ever.

Thor stepped forward, hand outstretched as if he meant to grasp Loki as he had always done when trying to impress upon him the genuineness of his words - and immediately jerked back with a hiss, the skin of his fingers reddened. Loki's heart pounded in his ears, green light pulsing in his vision.

"I would like it very much," he said, voice shaking at the edges, "if you were not to touch me."

Thor gazed at the energy around Loki in disbelief. "How have you gained this power?"

Loki took a deep breath, attempting to regain his calm. "The cure. One I have paid dearly for." He turned to Odin, unable to bear Thor's gaze any longer. "Is this why you have called me forth? To test my mettle against your firstborn?"

Finally, Odin spoke. "No. I have brought you both here to join the two of you together against my firstborn."

Thor stared in confusion, his anger towards Loki forgotten for the moment. "Father?"

"The Goddess of Death will soon approach," Odin said airily. "My life was all that held her back, and my time has come."

"The Goddess of Death," Loki repeated flatly - because _of course_ there had been another catch.

"Hela. Your sister."

Loki wished that he felt as much consternation as the words should have elicited, but he was well used to Odin's lies by now - and in the grand scope of things, a heretofore never-mentioned sibling was much less of a shock than learning oneself was a completely different species than first assumed.

Thor's surprise, on the other hand, staggered him. He took a seat on the rock beside Odin, staring at him as if he was just now realizing how much he did not know him. As if the fact that anyone - barring Loki, of course - could even conceive of interacting with Thor using anything other than face value in their words and motivations still warranted from him such absolute incredulity.

And now, in the face of Thor's dismay, Odin did what he did best - he simply ignored the reaction he had stirred to life. 

He turned to Loki instead, catching him in the gaze of his remaining eye. "Her violent appetites grew beyond my control. I couldn't stop her, so I imprisoned her. Locked her away."

The words were pointed, weighted. If there was an apology offered in their depths, it was not something Odin would surrender directly to Loki. As Odin had once accused, any deeper meaning would have to be _twisted_ from their depths.

Because for all of this passivity and gentle speech, there would be no explanations, and no real discussion. Just the statements of what was, and would be, because Odin had made his choices, and they remained unwavering even in their faults, even as he informed them quite clearly of the threat that fast approached.

Loki was released from Odin's eye as he moved it back towards the expanse of water before them. "She draws her strength from Asgard, and once she gets there...her powers will be limitless."

Hugin pressed his beak to the side of Odin's face in a show of commiseration. 

Loki felt his throat tighten. He could not take this any longer. He moved a step back from his brother and false father, and teleported to the others. 

It felt very much like fleeing.

\-----------

Bucky's sight on his scope was suddenly overtaken by Loki's body as he appeared in front of him. "I would suggest readying yourselves for battle as quickly as possible."

"I don't see anything incoming," Wilson said.

"And neither do I," Shuri said. "But that does not mean that nothing is coming if magic is involved."

"What exactly is going on?" Romanoff asked.

Loki's expression was flat, but his skin was taking on a green shimmer as his emotions started to roil up his power. "Odin has just revealed that he has a secret daughter, Hela, who is going to appear as soon as he dies and attempt to slaughter us all."

Bucky's "what the fuck" formed and died before he could speak it. "He said that?"

Loki's eyes were set hard. He wasn't joking. "He named her the Goddess of Death. I took an educated guess from that point." He turned and stared out over the distance between them and Odin. "Her strength rivals his own."

"But not yours," Bucky said, wishing it wasn't a question. He knew better than to assume with this kind of stuff.

Loki's expression wasn't reassuring. "He said that if she was to reach Asgard, her power would become limitless."

"Then we keep her from reaching Asgard," Steve said, a straightforward plan for what would hopefully be a straightforward execution. "Do we have any details on what to expect?"

Loki shook his head. "None, other than the fact she has been imprisoned for a millennia because of an enthusiasm for violence."

"I'm starting to see a pattern here," Wilson remarked. 

Bucky thought with sudden certainty that Odin was _very_ lucky that Loki hadn't invited him to be involved in that conversation. "How could he just _keep_ something like that from you?"

Loki's spoke defeatedly, with no surprise in his tone. "I am sure he would have preferred that I would have been kept imprisoned long enough to fade from Asgard's memory as well."

"And we're certain she can't be reasoned with?" Steve asked.

"Odin called Thor and I forth specifically to combat her," Loki said. "Though if you are worried, I am sure that there will be no lack of olive branches from Thor, even if she tries to kill him. Unless he's finally learned that lesson."

Shuri was digging into a bag that had been slung over her shoulder. "I brought enough Stabilizing Beads to protect the rest of us from Loki's magic."

While Shuri distributed the bracelets to the others, Bucky stepped closer to Loki. "You okay?"

Loki's eyes darted to the others, before he gave a sharp nod. "I would-"

A crash of thunder drowned out whatever he was about to say, drawing everyone's attention towards the cliff. 

Thor was standing alone, shoulders moving with heavy breaths. Odin's raven had taken to the skies, his perch now gone.

Loki exhaled like he'd been punched, the careful blankness of his face cracking into distress. The calm of the surrounding air disappeared as gusts of wind began to draw in and the sky darkened further. Bucky felt the coldness with some aversion, tightening his grip on his gun. 

Thor turned their way. If he was surprised at seeing the Avengers gathered, he didn't show it. Instead, he only had eyes for Loki.

He began to twirl his hammer, a violent crackling searing the air as he used it to shoot through the air towards them at high speed before coming in for a braced landing that tore lines into the grass and dirt. 

The shimmer beneath Loki's skin grew more pronounced, the air around them resonating with the vibrating sensation that preceded his losing control.

"You," Thor said, pointing his hammer at Loki. "You would not even allow him to say goodbye."

Loki stared forward, almost shaking. Bucky felt his own face set into a deadly glower, but his attention was redirected as Shuri suddenly planted herself firmly at his side.

"Excuse me!" She raised her hands, which were encased in vibranium gauntlets capped with snarling panther faces. "You will _step away_ from my prisoner."

A swell of fondness filled Bucky - even if it wasn't specifically geared towards weakening Thor, he was sure whatever Shuri had stashed in her weapons would more than pack a punch. Loki's look of complete and utter confusion might have been comical if it wasn't so completely indicative of his continuing doubt in his own worth.

Thor looked similarly taken aback by this development, but only slightly less thunderous. "Who are you?"

"Thor," Steve said, tone still firm in the face of Thor's mood. "Loki says we have incoming. The Goddess of Death. Is that true?"

As if in answer, a black and green shape began to expand into being near to the area that Odin had passed. The air began to feel closer, colder, like it was pulling heat from Bucky's skin.

Like death.

The shape stretched, all writhing tendril edges and inky black - and inside of it, a woman came forward. She stepped onto the grass before them, wearing skin-tight armor lined with grey. 

The portal dissipated, but the cold feeling stayed behind. Bucky's instincts were telling him this was bad news, his skin felt like it was going numb just by being near Hela - power radiating off of her like it did with Loki, but invisible, malicious, a leeching chill to Loki's fire. 

He didn't shoot, as much as it pained him. Maybe if he'd been alone with her he would have. He ignored the throb of his guilt and waited to see what would happen.

Even though they all already knew what was going to happen.

Thor's fury towards Loki had been stowed for the moment. Instead he looked at his brother in a silent signal. Bucky carefully watched - Loki wasn't overjoyed but he was receptive, letting his magic fully loose to stretch into the air.

Hela spoke, her voice carrying to them easily in the open space. "So he's gone." The words hung in the air, smug and self-assured. "That's a shame, I would have liked to have seen that."

She looked an awful lot like a predator surveying her food options. She didn't even blanch at their number, the weapons aimed her way, or the power that was clearly currently on display from Thor and Loki.

Bucky rubbed the fingers of his prosthetic together just to feel the reassuring crackle of energy. 

"Steve," Wilson suddenly said. "We might have another problem."

Bucky found his attention torn as Thor stepped towards Hela. Thunder boomed overhead. "You must be Hela," he greeted. "I am Thor, son of Odin-"

A blast of green from Loki cut him off. The woman quickly formed a sword to block the wave and was thrown back across the grass.

Thor stared at Loki in bafflement and indignancy. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Loki muttered, shaking out his hand, "were you wishing to attempt diplomacy first?"

"What was the point of waiting if you were just going to attack her anyway?" Shuri griped.

"It's because he's a goddamn dramatic bastard," Bucky responded, tracking Hela through his scope.

She was already getting to her feet; her sword had shattered, but she looked totally unharmed. "Well," she said, eyebrows raised. "You're a lot less of a pushover than I expected to look at you. I thought for sure you would call down the Bifrost at the first sign of danger." She extended her hand, and a second long blade formed in her grasp. The smug smirk was back. "You really should, you know. It's the only way any of you are getting out of this alive."

"We need to make this fast," Steve said, his voice urgent. "Sam says we have aircraft inbound. The US Marshals."

"And what of it?" Thor asked, spinning his hammer as his sister made her leisurely approach. "The more help the merrier."

"Yeah, there's been maybe one or two things you've missed since you've been gone," Wilson said.

Bucky frowned. "What the hell are they doing all the way out here?"

"The Raft," Steve answered.

Shuri cursed in Xhosa. "I would very much like to avoid ending up on an international criminal registry."

"Then I'll end this quickly," Thor announced, and threw his hammer forward. 

Hela dropped her weapon to catch his in her fist, easy as could be. Loki's shoulders squared with tension. 

Thor gaped while Hela grinned. "It's not possible."

She clamped her hand down, cracking open the metal - the subsequent blast rocked them all back, debris shooting out at all angles. Loki teleported himself forward before the air had even settled, green wreathing him as he conjured knives and stabbed forward. He was met with the black metal of a sword and easily parried, before the length was thrust towards his chest.

It tore through his clothes and then shattered on impact with his skin, but fuck if Bucky's heart didn't pound faster all the same.

Hela paused. She tilted her head as she looked carefully at Loki's unharmed chest, before meeting his eyes. "Who are you?"

Shuri nudged Bucky's side. "Our weapons - we should try them against her," she said lowly. "She is Odin's biological daughter, there may be some overlap in their energies. It could slow her down."

Bucky didn't question it. "Ready when you are," he said.

Shuri raised her gauntlets and fired them into the ground around Hela's feet, circular devices implanting and raising a golden barrier that clung against her body like netting. The chill in the air lessened, and Bucky suddenly felt like he could breathe a little easier.

"It's working," Shuri said, taking scans. "But they will not hold her for long. We have to act now."

The others didn't take any more convincing. Romanoff brought out her batons as Steve raised his shields and Wilson brought up his submachine guns. Hela lashed out as much as she could when they attacked, her movements hindered by the golden barrier, black swords pushing against it and fading before they could fully form. But her physical strength was still incredible - she managed to wrench one of Steve's shields free, her hand gripped around his forearm to keep him still as she raised it above his head. Bucky swore, but before she could bring it down Thor was before her and grappling for command of the weapon.

Loki didn't join them - he'd stepped back, eyes wide and face pale. He looked like he wanted to run, but was rooted to the spot. Even when Bucky managed to get his attention he only looked back with eyes that were way too glassy.

And of fucking _course_ he felt like that, they were weakening his sister using the same kind of shit that had held him. Didn't matter that he'd struck the first blow, that she was going to kill them all - Loki's brain was processing a very different threat, a punishment that he couldn't fight against.

The golden barrier wavered against Hela's strength, enough that she managed to slash at one of the devices on the ground and send everyone else flying back before she reached for the next ones. 

Bucky waited for an opening to come as she destroyed her containment. At her side her flesh was exposed through the ruined armor - he timed his shot on her upswing. The impact of the projectile buried the device into her skin. The resulting cry of anger and expression of pained confusion was promising. 

It still wasn't a permanent restraint. Even now Hela was forming more swords, albeit with concentrated effort. 

Now Bucky rushed to Loki. "Can you get her down? We probably don't have much time before she breaks free."

Loki blinked, his breaths still coming a bit too fast. His hands were wreathed in green but he didn't fire. 

"Everyone take cover!" Wilson shouted, and Bucky jerked his gaze up in time to see an approaching jet.

Bucky bolted back to Shuri as fast as he could, pulling her in close and bracing his prosthetic up to deflect the bullets as Wilson curved his wings over Steve and Romanoff. A moment later the jet swooped down overhead and rained gunfire from the sky.

"We need to get out of here," Romanoff said after its first pass was done. "Thor, get your ass into the Quinjet and out of the line of fire!"

Thor blinked, seeming torn between helping his friends and rushing in again weaponless at the murderous sister who had destroyed his magic hammer.

Bucky swore under his breath. "Everyone take off your beads," he ordered, then shouted towards where Loki was standing. "Loki, take her out and get us the hell out of here."

\-----------

The roar of gunfire felt like it would make Loki's ears bleed with pain, enough to bring him back from the grip of terror, from the consuming loop of _rules_ and _trapped_ and _please_.

Even outside of the sensory overload of Wakanda, it took everything in him not to reach up with his magic and tear the aircraft apart just to get the noise to stop. 

His sister showed no such restraint. She had broken free of most of her stabilizing devices, breath ragged with fury - they had been outfitted specifically for Odin, and were unable to hold her for long. She formed another sword, longer than the last, and threw it upwards towards the aircraft as it came around for a second attack. 

Loki stretched out his hand and the sword crumbled in midair, along with the next round of ammunition that fired forth upon the ground. He still felt his mind would scream to pieces from the sight of her struggling against being frozen.

Hela whipped her head towards him, her gaze narrowed in interest. She had not been able to remove the device clinging to her side. "Why has someone like you banded together with the Midgardians? They're not deserving of anything more than your rule."

Loki felt himself smile bitterly. "I thought so, once. I've learned not to underestimate them." He gestured at the destroyed devices at her feet for emphasis. "I think that you'll soon find out the same."

She laughed, and Loki had once known that, too - the thriving confidence, the surety that your enemies could not hope to do more than crumble at your will. "Do you know who I _am_? I once commanded the legions of Asgard into conquering all of the Nine Realms. Not a single planet could have hoped to challenge us. It was only because Odin stopped that our supremacy was not extended beyond that." She stepped forward, calm despite the blood that moved down her armor in creeping streams. "I seek to restore Asgard's power, to claim its rightful destiny. If you possessed even a modicum of intelligence, you would join me."

"So that you might use me in your plans for domination, you mean," Loki responded, not rising to her lure. 

Hela's grin did not abate. "And offer to be used in return."

Loki sincerely doubted that. He was certain that Odin had not done well to raise any of his children into thinking they deserved anything less than absolute rule.

He felt a shock at his arm and jerked as a judder of spasming pain through his muscles that insisted on his attention. Bucky arrived at his side a moment later, power still surging between metal fingers. "What the hell are you doing? We have to go."

Hela's eyes had narrowed at the interaction. "Allow me to make an offering." She formed yet another sword, grimacing as she fought against the pull of the stabilizer. "This one, at least, I might put out of your misery."

Loki fired his magic forward at the same time Bucky lashed out with the stores in his artificial limb. The power combined into a roaring and vigorous wave that swept Hela back and over the crumbling edge of the steep cliff, huge chunks of rock blasting outwards and disintegrating in its wake. 

When the ground stopped trembling, they both ran to the edge; the view was a straight drop hundreds of feet into the frothing of waves against rock. 

Hela was nowhere to be found by sight.

The jet flew overhead again. Again, Loki diverted its fire with ease.

"I can perform a locator spell," Loki said. "It may take a few more moments since we are not in Wakanda-"

"And then what? Jump into the sea and leave everyone stranded with the US Marshals trying to gun us down?" Bucky's tone grew in tension as he sent another glance up at the sky. "If she survived that, this isn't going to be a quick fight. We need to get the others out of danger first - let the heat die down for a few hours before we come back for her. We're already at risk of inciting a worldwide manhunt."

Loki realized what that would mean for his magic and senses with some reluctance. But he followed Bucky back towards the group - they had gathered into the Quinjet for protection.

Thor looked stunned by loss, his gaze a little unfocused. The hand that had once wielded his hammer hung lax at his side, though the fingers curled when he took note of Loki's attention.

Enchanted uru, destroyed, by the power of Hela's bare hand.

For a moment, Loki wondered if he himself would have tried to destroy Mjolnir if he'd known such a thing was even possible. Years ago, yes. Now...

Their second attacker was making its approach overhead once more. Loki very much disliked the thought of Thor coming with them to Wakanda, but he dutifully placed his hand against the ship, and moved them back to the farm.

All at once the world crowded back in - shapes, bodies, the sounds of their breaths, the feel of the openness. He staggered and was caught in the tight grip of metal fingers curving against his bicep. His magic surged, visibly draining into Bucky's artificial arm before Loki replaced his suppressors and crushed it back down, as his addled mind belatedly registered the grip as a comfort. 

He then had to focus to keep himself from falling to his knees and pressing his hands over his ears with his eyes clamped shut. The over-stimulation and complete awareness of the components within and without himself was far too intense after experiencing such relief from their press.

"Loki," Thor said, the spoken name reverberating in his eardrums. "What is happening to him?"

"Stay the hell back," Bucky ordered, the careful quietness of his voice only adding to the severity. "Where are your earbuds?"

"Pocket," Loki grunted, finding himself wishing to be as still as possible - a habit of a stress response that he had not yet been able to shake free of.

The pain lessened as Bucky applied them and adjusted the settings so that Loki could not hear even a single word if it was spoken. He fought back bile as they moved, and after a time the hut's close walls were surrounding him once more. 

The calm that came after was much slower to follow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the wait - real life slowed the writing for a bit. We should be back to normal every 10ish day updates after this.
> 
> (Edit: Nature decided to strand me for three days without power so the writing/editing slowed again. Expect a chapter update Sunday the 7th.)

The sun was setting, but the inside of the hut felt stifling.

Bucky knew that had more to do with the way his lungs felt like they were having a searing disagreement with his diaphragm than the actual temperature. He soothed himself by checking over his arm, feeling for the remaining energy stores and making sure that it was still in working order after blasting out such a large amount of raw power. When he was done with that, he went through the same level of care with his gun.

Loki was kneeling on the bed opposite, shoulders hunched and eyes clamped shut, shivering intermittently. A wooden caracal was in his grasp, and he ran his thumb repetitively over the rounded sides of its small form. 

His clothes were torn where Hela had tried to stab him, the edges of fabric parted to reveal pale skin. Bucky's brain kept doing a weird series of jumps where every time he looked he expected to see a stretch of flesh mottled black with disease. Then, when he'd look harder, he'd find that in fact there wasn't so much a hint of red at the site of the blow that had done in his top. 

Physically, Loki was fine. He'd come out of the fight with even less damage than what he accrued during a sparring session with Bucky.

But Bucky still remembered the look in Loki's eyes when they'd used the devices meant for Odin on Hela - the panic that had shut him down completely, stopped him in his tracks. Bucky could practically hear the echo of Loki's pleading voice, coming all the way back from the first few weeks after he'd been uncovered from that hole underground, when every sound and movement had sent him into panic and he lived in a world where he thought his worst nightmare was always breathing down his neck.

(" _Not. Stop._ ")

Hela had been about to gleefully kill them all. It hadn't been like they'd had a lot of options. 

That didn't stop Bucky from feeling like shit for needing to be a part of bringing those emotions to the fore in Loki. 

"Buck?"

Bucky saw the shape of a shadow at the door, and for half a second his heart leaped and his mind flashed back to when Odin had come to terrorize them. 

His pulse pounded as he evened out back to reality.

Steve.

"Give me a sec," Bucky answered, then stepped over to Loki.

"I will be fine," Loki said before Bucky could speak, though he kept his eyes shut and his body and voice were both wracked with trembles. 

"I know," Bucky said, that awful feeling inside him ballooning until his entire chest felt tight. He held his prosthetic out, palm up. "You wanna recharge my arm?" 

He still had plenty of energy stored, but figured maybe the release would help them both feel a little better - and he knew that wording it like it was entirely for his benefit would make it more likely for Loki to take the offer.

Loki cracked open his eyes and set the caracal toy aside as he reached for the offered limb and pressed his palm against Bucky's. A look of concentration overtook him as he unleashed his magic and struggled to pull it back in, leeching a careful stream of glowing energy into the metal in an exercise they had performed hundreds of times at this point. It did seem to help, if the way the shaking lessened was any indication. 

When he was done, Loki reluctantly released Bucky's hand and instead clasped his own together. "I only need a few more minutes."

"To do what, exactly," Bucky asked, already knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Locate Hela."

"Give yourself a break. You look like you're half a shake away from seizing."

Loki ground his jaw, his hand drifting to the tear in his clothes. "She destroyed Mjolnir, a weapon I could not hope to lift, with her _bare hand_. And that is not the extent of her power. If she gets to Asgard-"

" _Loki,_ " Bucky broke in. "I know. We all know. But the smart way to play this doesn't involve aiming you like a gun out in the open."

Loki stared, a furrow creasing his brow. "Smart," he echoed. "Because it was my fault we were attacked. My power that drew in the craft that fired upon us."

Bucky sighed, recognizing this pattern of self-loathing. "Maybe. But there were about six other energy signals that could have alerted them."

"None as great as mine."

"I think the giant beam from space that brought your brother and left a huge burn mark in the ground is at least a close second." 

The protest in Loki's eyes grew. "What is your plan, then?"

Bucky shrugged. "There's no plan, yet. I'm gonna go talk to the others - we'll be just on the other side of the hill."

"You..." Loki began to take in faster breaths. "You are not going to allow me to join you."

"I told you," Bucky tried, "we haven't even decided-"

Loki lurched to his feet, crowding in close. "You are my _keeper._ Have we not established these last several months that everything that happens to me is _yours_ to decide?"

Bucky felt his anger growing - and he knew Steve could hear them arguing, since there wasn't any damn soundproofing in the hut. He tried to keep his voice low. "She wanted you on her side."

Loki stared at him unblinkingly. "So this is fear, then, that I will betray you."

God, he'd almost forgotten how fast Loki's accusations could go when he was stressed, how fucking hard it was to keep up with him. It was no different now, especially when Bucky was still too mentally preoccupied by Loki's reminder of his role in his life, the complete control he could have over him if he even had half the intention. 

Bucky shook his head. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Tell me," Loki pressed, his teeth baring with the words. "Or am I meant to continue guessing until I reach the right answer?"

This wasn't going to turn out well. Bucky mentally braced himself, keeping careful eye contact. "You froze in the field. Stopped attacking her. I completely understand why, but if she'd been able to hurt you she could have run you through about six times."

Loki's lips twisted, the sheen of anger in his eyes strengthening. "You think me both inept and untrustworthy."

"I didn't say that!"

"You may as well have," Loki argued, gesturing to the damage in his clothes. "We both know that I am the most likely among us to come out of any battle unscathed. I cannot be harmed by her power."

"And _I_ think we both know that you can still get harmed by a whole hell of a lot of other things."

Loki's eyes narrowed, his throat bobbing with a swallow. "So I am weak now as well."

Holy hell, Bucky did not want to keep doing this. " _Loki,_ just stop. You fucking know I don't think that. I've never thought that."

"Then what?" Loki challenged.

"I'm not taking that damn bait. You're just going to find more reasons to argue with me for anything I answer. And I'm not having this conversation to encourage you to keep trying to convince me to change my mind."

Loki's expression shuttered. His eyes darted to the door of the hut. "Is the princess still present?"

Bucky watched him with caution. "Why? What are you going to do?"

Loki raised his chin, a tonelessness in place of his earlier irritability. "With your permission, I would speak with her." 

For half an instant, Bucky wanted to completely refuse. Loki still looked like he was about to keel over, and he couldn't help but worry that Loki was going to take advantage of the developing relationship with Shuri to try and wheedle his way into what he wanted.

And the way he'd said "permission" had made an additional wave of guilt and anger wash up into the back of Bucky's throat. He knew that Loki was rarely careless with his words, even if it had been a while since they'd gone at it like this. Bucky stayed quiet, struggling to think of a response that wasn't just his emotions lashing back.

At his hesitation, a quiet fury broke over Loki's face. "You would deny me."

Bucky almost winced, and now the guilt was overtaking some of his own heat. He tried to inject as much calm sincerity into his voice as he could manage. "No, I won't. Just stay here while I meet with the others. I'll make sure Shuri talks to you before she goes."

Loki's eyes shifted to the door again, and then down to his hands. His shoulders slumped, but his tone was still full of frustrated anger. "I cannot mend this if you confine me to your home."

Bucky took note of the wording again - "your" and not "our." He could feel the shit of the situation spiraling them down deeper - but there was no way in hell he was going to put Loki or the Wakandans at risk. "It's not your damn job to mend it."

"It is moreso mine than yours."

Bucky finally went for the low blow. "Every extra second we argue with each other here we're not figuring out what to do about Hela."

Loki's eyes widened, then narrowed as he scrutinized Bucky's face, like he thought Bucky was joking. It didn't take him long to realize that this really was a blanket refusal.

Loki took a step back, his posture lined with defeat. "If there is a new rule you would instate," he murmured, "you only need speak it."

Bucky knew he was fucking this up, but he didn't know what he should say, or if there even was anything he _could_ say to get Loki to come around to his side.

He closed the space between them, eyeing Loki's body language, making sure the proximity wasn't scaring him in the wake of all of those reminders of Bucky's authority over him. Loki's eye twitched, but there was no real flinch or instinctive withdrawal. Bucky wasn't quite sure if that made the situation better or worse, then tried to stop himself before he began to project all of his old issues as a Winter Soldier onto Loki.

Instead, he reached out and clasped his arms around Loki in a firm hug. Loki remained tense with unhappiness for the duration, but didn't try to pull free.

"I meant it," Bucky said as he broke them apart. "I'll be back as soon as we're done."

"Of course," was the response, and Bucky caught the stronger glint of light reflecting in Loki's eyes before he quickly turned away. 

Bucky stared at the lines of the lithe back, the resigned curve to his neck.

It was better than the freezing panic, he told himself. Better that he was upset here where it was safe, where eventually he'd get over it. 

And hopefully there wouldn't be any more surprise family members to keep track of after this.

Steve was still outside, standing patiently, the shield he'd used to fight Hela slung down over his back. 

He raised an eyebrow at Bucky as they made their way to the Quinjet. "Loki sounded like he really wanted to be involved in the discussion."

"Yeah, well, he has a tendency to overextend himself," Bucky said, then quickly changed the subject. "So what's the damage? Any APBs on us yet?"

"Not yet, but Natasha's keeping an eye on things. We'll know as soon as anything goes out."

"Good."

There was silence for a few more steps. Bucky could feel the weight of Steve's gaze.

"What," he asked, voice flat. 

Steve wasn't in the least bit put off by Bucky's tone. "You've spent a lot of time telling me that Loki's not a threat. He proved he's a valuable ally out there today."

Bucky didn't bother to mask his irritation. "It'd be hard for him to be anything else, considering the circumstances."

(" _Wipe him._ ")

"I'm not saying I know a lot of the details, but it looked like you were being pretty lenient with his restrictions before this." 

Bucky swallowed, glad that Steve didn't have enough information to launch a better defense. "Trust me, I already have a guilt trip coming from each damn side of this argument in my head."

"So what's different now?"

"With Loki? Nothing." Bucky sent him an annoyed glance. "He's a prisoner of Wakanda, Steve, not one of your Avengers."

"Maybe not," Steve allowed. "But it can be hard to do the right thing when no one gives you the chance."

"Except he's still fucking _vulnerable_ ," Bucky argued. "Way more than you and me. Thought you'd have a good idea of that after you had him chained up to be handed off to Odin."

Steve went quiet for a few blessed seconds, before a deep frown overtook his expression. "So you were lying to him." The words were almost a question.

Bucky sighed. "No, I wasn't. None of that is what I'm worried about." He shook his head. "Look, I don't want to talk about this. Let's just focus on what our mission needs to be now."

Steve's frown softened, and Bucky suddenly felt like he had just pulled back a layer of skin and put his insides on display. The worst part was that he didn't know whether or not he even had a good enough handle on Steve's opinions to be completely sure about how much he would disagree with the thoughts that were currently going through Bucky's head.

Bucky only knew that he _really_ didn't want that confusion cleared up for himself. It wasn't going to change what he had to do.

"All right," Steve relented. "It's good that you're doing what you can to help Loki. Sounds like he puts a lot of stock into what you think."

 _Yeah,_ Bucky thought, seeking out the sensation of the filled energy stores in his prosthetic, _that's exactly why I don't want him to be there when I have to kill his sister._

_\----------_

Shuri, Wilson and Thor were gathered just inside of the Quinjet as Steve and Bucky approached. Romanoff was in the cockpit, a headset on as she stared into one of the screens. 

Bucky was anticipating problems from Thor, but at the moment Loki's brother looked like he was deep in conversation with Shuri, and didn't appear half as aggressive now that Loki was gone. 

"Those devices that you used to attempt to contain Hela," Thor was saying, "would they keep her power drained indefinitely?"

"Assuming it has not been removed," Shuri said, bringing up a projection of a zoomed-in model of the projectiles she'd given Bucky. It was shaped like a bullet, but the base had hook-like metal extensions that came out and stretched across its length to help it burrow more effectively into its target upon a successful hit. "But they were not calibrated for her particular energy, so there are no guarantees."

Thor peered at the image. "Still, she destroyed my hammer, and then you and your robotic friend managed to use your science to draw blood. That is...quite frightening. Do you know of Jane Foster, by any chance?"

"Of course," Shuri answered. "Her research on astrophysics is unparalleled. I also heard that she dumped you."

Thor spluttered. "I - no, that's not right, I-"

"Take it easy, Thor," Wilson said, then jerked his chin to indicate Bucky and Steve. "They're back."

Thor turned towards them, an expression of confusion giving way to a scowl. Bucky felt the humidity in the air increase. "Where is Loki?"

"He's not going to be joining us," Steve said.

"So he is taking the coward's way out," Thor growled. "Our father is dead and our sister seeks to overtake Asgard and control the universe. The least he could do-"

"Is nothing," Shuri interrupted, bristling. "Loki does not owe you any help. Especially not after what Odin did to him, which you obviously do not know about. Do not come here so uninformed and demand payments now that it suits you."

Bucky was glad that the others were taking care of the talking, so he could keep his full attention on Thor's posture and movements in case he got violent. No one else looked too concerned about that being a possibility, but Bucky still felt way too twitchy after everything that had happened that day to share in their ease.

Thor stared at Shuri, practically looming over her. "What are you talking about?" He blinked, and suddenly the booming anger faded into something more wavering and hesitant. "What did my father do to him?"

Steve folded his arms. "Bucky and Shuri know the story the best."

"We didn't come here for stories," Bucky finally interjected. "It's gonna take us longer to get back to Norway without Loki's help. We should start deciding on a plan."

"Sorry, Barnes," Romanoff said from the cockpit. "But it sounds like the US Marshals did our job for us."

Wilson winced. "Don't tell me..."

Romanoff set the headset to rest at the base of her neck. "There's a new prisoner listed on Raft intake. I'll have to get some more details to confirm, but I'm pretty sure it's Hela."

There was a few moments of silence as the new information sunk in.

Bucky directed a wry look at Shuri. "No guarantees, huh?"

_\----------_

Loki stared at the far side of the hut at Bucky's empty bed long after he had been left alone. What personal items the man had gathered for himself in his time here were kept stored in bags and baskets, mostly hidden from sight. Loki could rifle through them, of course, and without any real fear of retribution beyond a stern word - or he could even simply ask as to what they contained, but their contents were seldom volunteered beyond that.

Loki, in contrast, had created a small space of shelving on which to place his meager belongings. Now, his feelings towards the display had soured, and he did not know why he ever thought its creation had been a good idea.

 _You failed,_ Loki thought. _You sought to ensure his safety, and instead you proved how very incapable you are at doing even that._

The same thoughts had been running in variations through his head for the last several minutes. He felt like he would choke on his own self-loathing. 

Bucky was not normally one to hide his true thoughts of the quality of Loki's person, but he could not see any other explanation for why their fight had ended the way it had. Perhaps now his Wolf was finally seeing just how much of a terrible choice it had been to place Loki in such high esteem, to allow him to get so close. 

And maybe even now he was deciding to leave Wakanda entirely, forever, and leave Loki to the responsibility of others while he paired with someone else.

Someone who would not completely freeze when given a crucial command.

Someone not so completely mired in their own brokenness that they would become a liability.

The hug and promise had been a kindness that Loki had refused to allow himself to enjoy. Better to begin trying to close himself off now, so that the pain of it could fade all the quicker.

He wondered who the Wakandans would hand him off to. While a dim voice in his head futilely insisted, _you are a fool, he would not discard you like this_ , Loki considered the options. He no longer feared that they would return him to stasis, but the freedom he'd held under Bucky's guard would likely be retracted. Perhaps the Wakandans would keep him in a cell, so he would not have to be monitored every hour of the day. 

Princess Shuri would possibly still make the effort to visit him, if only to get him to engage in the experiments with which they could use to further solidify this humane captivity. It would likely become the only time he was allowed to use his magic ever again. He could not see anyone outside of Bucky and the princess permitting him such access.

And if none of that came to pass, if they instead decided to follow their word to give him his freedom...

"Loki? Would you like some dinner?" 

The voice came suddenly from outside the hut, bringing with it the scent of something warm and savory. Loki unwillingly drew his attentions away from Bucky's space.

He did not wish for dinner. He did not wish for company. The air around him felt like it was growing thinner with every passing second. 

But he knew that if Bucky returned and found that Loki had been rude to the people that he cared for, that it would be even less of a salvage to this situation. Especially if they had been sent to monitor Loki in Bucky's absence.

The thought sent the tangle of bitterness within him coiling tighter.

He rose and pulled the cloth at the door aside. It took a great amount of effort for him to remain unflinching as the world reacted to his exposure by rushing in with stimuli, the sounds of the villagers and animals a hundred small hammers pounding against his ear drums and sending his skin into an unpleasant tingling. 

Anwuli stood outside with her daughter Ndidi - he saw the child appear taken aback at the discontent that must have been clear on his face. 

Anwuli did not share in her daughter's surprise, her expression gentle and open. "Is inside or outside better?"

Loki turned his gaze to the hill that hid the Quinjet from sight. He wanted to stretch his magic in that direction, to see how the others were gathered, but he knew that such stimulation would be likely to overwhelm his already frayed nerves.

He took a step beyond the door, and froze under the thrill of terror that filled him as he belatedly wondered if he'd made a mistake, if a new restriction on his radius had been put in place and he had just overstepped his bounds and brought punishment upon himself. 

But the implants stayed as they were, and did not crush him into slower movements or stillness.

He stared down at his hands, flexing them until he was completely reassured that nothing would truly happen. 

The Wolf would not be so cruel. The realization of this fact finally broke his grimly circling thoughts and allowed a small, wavering hope to penetrate.

"It would seem outside is acceptable," he answered, grateful that his voice remained steady.

He still felt far too nauseous to have any desire for the food laden with heavy spices that the Wakandans favored. But he made himself eat, and fought through the burst of sensation against his tongue that seemed to scour his throat and nostrils with its intensity, until this new unpleasantness simply blended in with all the rest.

 _Keep eating,_ he demanded of himself. _After all, it's not as if it can truly harm you._

He still could not manage to force down as much as he wished. In the immediate aftermath of his setting his bowl aside, what food he had consumed felt as if it would writhe itself free of his stomach given half the chance.

Ndidi was at the hut's entrance and peering inside, curious and as inconsiderate of boundaries as ever. Loki knew she had seen the caracal she had gifted him resting in the center of his bed when she withdrew from her examination with a pleased expression. 

"Has the raven gone home?" Anwuli asked.

"I have not the faintest idea," Loki said, unable to keep all of the bite from his voice. His last sighting of Hugin had been the bird taking to the air after Odin's passing. "His master is gone."

"I am very sorry for him," Anwuli said. "But it is good that he is a raven. He will be clever enough to find what he needs to continue."

Loki darted her a sidelong glance. "Perhaps," he said, deciding to keep his exact thoughts about her relentless optimism to himself. 

As his nausea from the food finally faded, Ndidi quietly pleaded until he gave in and joined her in a game of noughts and crosses. She scraped her choices into the dirt with a stick while Loki used his magic, attempting to use the movements to reacquaint himself with smaller and more careful spells. The restraint he needed to employ for this activity was almost painful, and he eventually was forced to give up and bind his magic down before he accidentally singed his surroundings.

The sun lowered beyond the horizon and the sky blackened. Loki grew continuously more anxious with each minute that stretched without an appearance from Bucky. Ndidi had fallen into a doze at her mother's leg, while Anwuli filled the silence with ease, speaking of nothing of import. Loki began to wonder if she had not been sent to distract him, to keep him from realizing that Bucky had already left. 

He had shuddered out a breath at the thought, and was beginning to seriously consider testing just how far a distance his implants would allow him to move before punishing him into stillness. As his emotions circled forwards and back and reach a pitch in his fear, he finally felt the approach of someone on the other side of the hill.

Bucky was returning. 

_Thank the Norns._

Loki eagerly rose from his seat, hesitating with a glance towards Anwuli. 

She waved him off. "Go to him. It is late, anyway."

"Thank you," Loki said. 

Bucky did not seem surprised when Loki met with him before he had even crested the hill. He gestured for Loki to follow him back. "Sorry it took so long for me to get back," he said, tension and weariness clear around his eyes. "Forgot how much everyone likes to talk."

"It is a prime method of communication," Loki responded with a careful put-upon dryness, as if he had not spent the last few hours doing everything in his power to keep from screaming. He cautiously observed Bucky's state for signals of any lingering frustrations. 

"Glad you think so," Bucky said, voice worn and rough. "Because your brother's real passionate about being allowed to try it out on you."

Loki's steps faltered. Bucky paused in kind, as if he had expected the response.

"Say the word, and I'll make him leave," Bucky said, the plates on his artificial limb shifting as it did when he prepared to lift a great weight. "He sent a message to your guy in the sky not to open that bridge up to anyone, so he's not leaving Earth - but I can at least get him to clear the area so he doesn't bother you."

Loki stared at Bucky in confusion. In all his years of living he had only very rarely encountered situations where someone was willing to be so fully on his side against Thor. When he had been younger his desire for such an event had been a weakness, and had made him all the more vulnerable to the teasing words of Thor's friends. That had been before he had learned to mistrust, to be more clever, to bolster his reputation for mischief such that it was a danger to court such belittlement of his person. 

For someone to offer to rid him of Thor's presence for the simple, selfish reason that _Loki did not want him there,_ was unheard of.

Whatever lingering worries Loki had of Bucky's intentions faded, and he felt shame in their absence, what little relief that came too much like unhappiness. It stole his vigor as he was once again made aware of how off the mark the suspicions of his addled mind remained. 

"I had thought that time would be of the essence," he said, now much more subdued. "Hela did not seem the particularly patient type."

"Yeah," Bucky responded with a frown, "about that. There's a chance we might have a little more time than we thought."

"You do not sound very pleased," Loki observed. "What happened? Is she dead already?"

There was a minute reaction on Bucky's face, a tightening before he gave a long exhale. "Not exactly."

_\----------_

She'd been knocked unconscious.

Hela did not think she could ever recall a time when such a feat was possible. Perhaps as a child, wild with recklessness before her powers had truly come into being, when she sought fights against all manner of magical beasts to feed her purpose. But even then, as she'd begun the transition into her womanhood, no one had been able to touch her - not without their lives ending with their hearts quivering around a blade.

And how she'd tried to put her swords through their hearts - those insipid sons of Odin. Clearly her dear old father's complete propensity for deception and bullshit had remained as convincing as ever over the millenia. Even the prince who'd held enough power to be of interest refused all enticement.

It was galling. She should have been in Asgard already, regaining her strength and inspiring the people, planning their dominion over the cosmos. Instead, she was - wait, where the _hell_ was she?

Hela rose from the ground, ignoring the dull throb of pain in her side as she stared about herself in confusion. She had been placed in some sort of metal room, discarded like refuse. Her armor and headdress were gone - _stripped_ from her - and her body was currently encased in some sort of cloth restraint device. 

Something hummed against the flesh of her neck - and she discovered quite quickly what it was as when she attempted to push against her restrictions lancing electrical pain was delivered through her nerves, an aggressive companion to the metal that burrowed into her side and sapped her power like a parasite.

Her rage flared hot. This was simply _unacceptable._ She had not broken herself from the Allfather's dimensional prison just to find herself bound at the hands of mortals. She struggled to summon her blades, her screams echoing off the walls as she allowed the pain of the collar to feed her rage. When she could not gather enough concentration to force them to fully form, she used her strength to tear herself free of the cloth that bound her.

There was an awful screeching sound that began in the wall, red lights flaring. She could see through a window of her cell, and to others occupied opposite her, their residents agitated. 

And there was a growing problem - the more she fought to lash out with the full strength of her power, to bring forth her blades, the more her side began to shriek with pain, and the harder it became to move.

This was what was truly weakening her, making her susceptible to the power of the collar. Its removal would be required before she could properly bring forth her blades.

She reached for the protruding metal in her flesh, planning to just rip the damn thing free. As her hand made contact and her grip clenched against it there was a popping noise and suddenly it felt as if Sleipnir had kicked into her ribs wearing horseshoes forged molten in the fires of Muspelheim.

For the second time that day, Hela found her world fading. 

Her fury followed her down.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's now an amazing piece of [art](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/post/185958214789/bucky-reached-out-with-the-prosthetic-and-loki) by [Lena7142](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/) for the previous fic, Compression!

Thor stood haloed within the light of the Quinjet, unmoving but attentive, tension radiating from him. Beside him, Princess Shuri was quietly speaking to her brother, the King of Wakanda's image projected from the beads she wore around her wrist. 

Bucky had lead them to the hill's alternate side - Loki did not know if it was intentional or instinctive, but it meant that they were not directly in any lines of sight as they approached, and had to willingly draw attention to themselves before Thor would notice them. 

Princess Shuri's voice carried to Loki's ears. "Everything went fine, brother. I saved everyone's life."

The king's voice was stern. "I do not agree with your definition of fine. Those men should aware of who it is they are holding as soon as possible."

The princess shrugged. "So why not just call the CIA? That way they can take all of the undeserved credit."

"I plan to." 

"Tell Ross I said hi."

"Shuri."

Princess Shuri rolled her eyes and held her arm further extended from her person. "I am fine, T'Challa. See? Not a scratch."

The king's tone softened. "I am glad you are all right. Keep me updated with any news."

She nodded, her voice sincere. "I promise."

The transmission ended and the princess folded her arms, looking much more antsy now that she was not in view of her brother's judgment. 

A feeling that Loki knew all too well.

Sensing the change in the air, Bucky slowed his steps, glancing at Loki as he did. Always cautious, always considerate. Loki felt the burn of it, the growing unsated longing bring forth his resentment at their seclusion being so fully destroyed.

But what did fate care for fairness.

As if in answer to Loki's thoughts, Bucky gave a brief sigh, the sound as distracting as a gong. 

Loki raised an eyebrow, quietly thankful for the excuse for the extra seconds of stalling. 

Bucky nodded towards Thor. "Just wondering how this next encounter's gonna rank in today's shitshow."

Loki felt a stab of chagrin, wishing that he could demand his heart to beat more slowly. "I will attempt to control myself."

"No," Bucky said. "That's not what I meant. If anyone here has a reason to shout, it's you."

"I think you'll find your friends will disagree."

"My friends," Bucky repeated, face blank. His brow pinched. "My _friends?_ Is this really a fight you want to have? Because I'll fucking do it." He stepped forward, metal fingers grazing the inside of Loki's wrist with an emphatic stab of energy. " _You're_ one of my friends, too."

The sharpness of the demand of Bucky's voice against his ear drums was overtaken by the candor in the eyes facing him. Loki felt a part of himself loosen at the sight. He brought his hands together to rub at the healing damage on his wrist, the lingering sting keeping him focused.

"You can walk away," Bucky said.

Loki glanced at Thor, who stood completely unaware of them, still staring intently off into the night in the direction from which he thought Loki would approach. A familiar exasperation filled him. 

_Were it that simple._

Loki allowed his implants to relax their hold just enough that a trickle of his magic was able to release - a sensation he hated almost as much as its full imprisonment. It was like the rush of an ocean against a straw, and hardly any more controllable compared to when he had full access. 

He used it to send an uneven arc of green light sailing raggedly in front of Thor.

Princess Shuri visibly jumped with a cry and then immediately glared indignantly in their direction. Thor turned, his right hand moving in an aborted motion before he lowered it in chagrin. The hammer's master calling for a weapon that no longer existed.

Thor locked eyes onto him. His lips formed Loki's name and he made to take an abrupt step forward, but Princess Shuri, now recovered from her fright, made a noise of irritation and he paused.

"What are you doing?" She raised her eyebrows in exasperation. "I told you he has to come to you."

Thor did not seem overly pleased with that idea, but there was a great solemness to him that overrode his anger. His chest heaved once, and he widened his stance and went back to staring at Loki impatiently, his cape flowing gently in the breeze behind him. He did not attempt to approach.

Bucky pulled his lips into a tight smile. "Looks like he at least has half a brain in there, if he's listening to Shuri."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Loki said absently, the rising anxiety not helping his rapidly increasing sense of overstimulation. 

He wished for his earbuds, but he left them carefully untouched in his pocket. _Endure,_ he demanded of himself. _Enough of this childish fear. What is this compared to what you have suffered?_

Reluctantly, Loki began to move within reaching distance from Thor. Bucky stayed at his side, lingering a step back but no further, his speed perfectly matched to Loki's pace. 

He noticed as he crossed into view of the aircraft's ramp how the other Avengers had gathered into the farthest reaches of it near the cockpit. They were clearly trying to ignore them in a showing of respect for Thor, though the Widow was the only one with the skill to convincingly pull off such behavior.

Loki finally came to a stop in front of Thor. At this proximity and no longer overburdened by quite so absolute stress, he could properly note how the weight of the day's events bore down on his brother. 

Mjolnir had been destroyed. Odin - the man who, for better or worse, had brought Loki and Thor together as children - was dead. Thor was king, and would stay king, if Odin's true firstborn did not get her way. He was well and truly above Loki in station in a permanence that would never be denied. 

And the absolute irony of it all, after the strain and bend and shatter of the bond between them, was that the kingship over Asgard was now a title neither of them desired. 

"Loki," Thor tried, looking oddly uncertain. "I..." 

Loki waited - for the shouting, the accusations and the blame. But despite practically teeming with impatience, words failed Thor.

It seemed Loki would be required to perform the first overture if he wanted this over with. 

He shook his head, forcing his voice flat. "Ask your questions, Odinson."

Thor's gaze became intent, a pull on Loki's own. "You say that as if I have not been _trying_ to." His tone filled with indignancy. "Did you really spend the last six years evading me? After everything that happened?"

Trust Thor to bulldoze right into the vicinity of the more painful subjects even when he had no real knowledge of them. Loki's magic pulsed uselessly within him as he nearly seized with the sudden desire to teleport himself far, far away. 

"My apologies," Loki said with careful calmness. "How strange that I should have attempted to avoid the death that you promised me."

He felt Bucky grow achingly still, his weight suddenly balanced should quick offensive movement be required. Loki knew from frustrating experience that Bucky would take special care with any true violence, but for a moment of extreme pettiness he greatly desired to see it - wanted to see his Wolf lash out at Thor in the same way he had towards Odin. 

"You would run even now," Thor accused, uncaring of the danger in the quiet stare being directed his way. "What new havoc did you seek to wreak on Earth? Why here?"

Loki did not bother to argue against Thor's choice of words. "There is little that would counter an infection from the blood of one of the Kursed, but I had heard stories of this place, rumors of mysticism in a hidden civilization on Earth...of a plant of such healing properties that it rivaled any medicine to be found in the Nine Realms. I had no idea if it would work, but I thought it a risk worth taking."

_("Loki, you must run!")_

"You took the plant from these people."

"I did," Loki agreed. "And it was working quite effectively. But to gain the new vigor the herb would impart, the body must first enter a stasis. I was found during this time, and my captors were quite displeased."

It was easier to speak on it, now, his words like an echo in the distance, told by rote while he shuttered his mind towards what came after, the years of silence in the dark, his very existence stoppered.

Thor glanced at Princess Shuri. "You have been living here among them. You could have called out to Heimdall. At least sent a message to let me know you lived."

"No," Loki said. "The former king of this land met with Odin. Considering my new power, they thought it better if I was...disallowed all further leeway to function."

Something in Thor's expression changed, became more beseeching and wary all at once. "You mean you were placed in a prison for your crimes."

( _He was no one. Nothing. Not even alive but for the endless shrieking of his own thoughts._ )

Despite Loki's forced iron grip on his emotions, a shudder manage to rock its way through. "That would be...a generous description."

Thor took a step forward, his face darkening even further. "What do you mean? Simply _tell me_ what happened."

Loki found his voice stolen, his heart pulsing in his throat, his instincts striking loud into his thoughts. _Flee, flee, flee..._

"Stop," Princess Shuri broke in, looking between them with wide eyes before focusing on Thor. "The technology I described to you, that was used against Hela...I made the original design when I was thirteen. My father used it without my knowledge to capture Loki, and seal him in the ground. It was not just a prison. He was buried, entirely encased in vibranium metal." 

And how much intelligence did she possess that this _child_ , only just over a decade from her infancy, had unknowingly managed to defeat and ruin him so completely. Driven by the simple desire to please her father. 

( _Unable to move. Unable to breathe. Unable to die._ )

"Only a few in Wakanda knew of his existence," the princess went on. "We wouldn't have found him at all if..." She trailed off, visibly gathering herself. "Do not blame him for avoiding you when he spent five years alone, sealed into stillness. And even if he had been free, I would not be surprised if he did not call your attention, considering what I have seen of your family."

Thor shook his head in vehement denial. "No, but father would not..."

Loki felt a giddiness inch in through the terror as his brother's words yet again failed him. "Please, by all means, Thor, elaborate on what your _dear father_ would and would not do."

Thor's limbs tensed in resurging anger, and Loki remembered the beats of their past conflicts, could see the way Thor had to struggle to hold back from rushing forward to grab Loki and escalating this into a physical altercation. "Did you not listen? Father called us _both_ forward as he was dying. Even after everything, he named you his son. He _wanted_ you there at his passing."

Loki's humor faded. "He wanted a living barricade to prevent our homicidal sister from reaching Asgard," he spat, his fear morphing and twisting into something meaner and more likely to fight. "In fact, at this point, I'm not even certain he didn't intend for you and I both to die. Heimdall would have seen Hela's return, and our deaths would have impressed upon him the importance of never allowing her back onto Asgard."

Thor took a long look, his ponderous brow furrowed, the muscles in his arms flexing as he continued to try and rein in his aggression. "I had thought your mind healed once. But now I see it is more discordant than ever."

The truth of that statement only served to blossom Loki's irritation into full anger, so bright that it nearly stole his breath. "Then allow _me_ to ask, Thor - what is it, exactly, that you want from me?" He grinned, and was pleased at the clear effort Thor had to put forth not to react to the expression. "Do you want me to weep for finding out that I was not the only child that Odin lied to? That he imprisoned? Do you wish me more lachrymose in the face of his passing? Do you know what I feel instead?" Loki felt it then, bitter pettiness, the urge to bend the truth so that it would bite the most deeply. " _Relieved._ " While Thor's hurt from the words was still plain on his face, Loki turned to Princess Shuri. "Those tests that we were to undergo, to better understand my magic. When can we start?"

She frowned, confusion in her gaze as she stared at him searchingly. "I would have to set up some of the testing areas," she said carefully, "but the first set of experiments I wanted to try are mostly ready."

Bucky quietly interjected. "Do you really think now is the best time for that?"

"Hela is contained in the center of an ocean," Loki said, continuing to ignore Thor to the best of his ability. "You did not want us to return to her until enough time had passed that we were not being actively searched for, and any accompaniment on my part close to the area before that will simply draw attention again." Loki paused. "Or am I wrong?"

A muscle jumped in the stern line of Bucky's jaw. "Okay," he eventually said. "We'll keep an eye on the Raft. Just make sure to get some damn sleep when you can."

Loki felt a lurch in his stomach, as if he had just accidentally walked himself face-first into a stone wall. His remaining confidence all but withered as he realized fully what he was agreeing to - not just the further signing of his life over to the Wakandans by giving them the ability to study and have even more complete knowledge on just how his magic operated, but the full separation from his warden.

Because, it seemed, Bucky would not be coming with him to the princess's laboratory. 

This was not unprecedented, he told himself. Princess Shuri and he had all but planned it as such, for their eventual collaborations - a gift of sorts, with Bucky allowed to stay at the farm and go on his runs and work the livestock freely while Loki was overseen by others. Their current circumstances were only expediting what had to be done.

And he wanted it. Wanted to be able to control himself, or at least feel half as well inside of Wakanda as he now knew he could feel outside of its borders. The faster that happened, the faster everyone could be sent away, and he could resume the life he had been living. 

Thor had gone uncharacteristically quiet, but his eyes burned with emotion as they met Loki's gaze, his stance squaring, his right hand curled around absolutely nothing, still aching for the hammer it would never again hold.

Loki refused to let himself regret his words, even if now any lasting doubts he might have had about Thor's ignorance of his imprisonment had faded completely. He had thought Loki dead all along.

Loki wondered if, given no interference, Odin would have left him in the ground indefinitely, until he was forgotten. All knowledge of him struck from Asgard's records, just as all knowledge of Hela had been erased.

Years and years of pouring over Asgard's history, and there had been no depictions of her likeness, no references, not a single solitary notation of her existence.

And now they were all trapped on Earth. Odin's children, left to simmer in the wake of his secrets. Left to kill each other for them.

He remembered Thor's hands grasping him, the grey dust of Svartalfheim at his back, and fighting simply to keep breathing as his blood pooled beneath him.

_("I'll tell father what you did here today.")_

They might never agree on Odin's intentions. That fact was a smoldering bitterness in Loki's core, especially now that he had been around a people that had convinced him that they believed that his most recent punishment had been unjust, and no matter his suspicions of their ultimate motives, that was a level of regard he knew he would never again receive on Asgard.

But Thor...Thor had wept as Loki lay dying.

For a moment, Loki felt the echo of regret. He teetered on the precipice of speaking words not coated with hostility, just to test, a delicate prod to see more clearly if that age-old hope of brotherhood was still aflame somewhere in Thor's heart. 

In the end, he thought better of it. Sentiment would not further his most pressing goal.

And he found himself feeling that he'd bared more than enough of himself for the day.

\----------

Since Bucky had integrated it into their routine, Loki had become well used to visiting Mount Bashenga. But the main sections of the princess's laboratory yet managed to send undulations of nausea echoing through him. The sheer concentration of vibranium present pressed upon him, begging for use, while his magic writhed. His mind shuddered from the openness of the mines, the emptiness beneath them too much like an abyss.

And all of that was not to mention the bright memory of the spectacular agony of having his flesh and bones and blood thoroughly excavated by blades and clever lasers. 

They had arrived in her lab to find her checking over a newly completed medical table, once. Loki did not remember much of that time beyond struggling to breathe and the absolute sensation of terror. Bucky had felt such distress at his reaction he'd nearly determined they would never visit again, requiring repeated convincing from both Loki and Princess Shuri before he relented and allowed them to try once more. 

And she had been careful, after that, even asking Loki to let her know any time any of her projects caused him even mild distress. He hadn't bothered to mention that most of them did, but over time, as he was privy to her presentations to Bucky about her projects and their uses, his fear faded as his understanding grew.

He knew he would need to keep his focus, now, for he had very specifically agreed to a project that would likely result in a fair amount of mental discomfort. 

Loki stood in the center of her lab and carefully flexed his hands, the implants locked in place over his magic. He'd put his earbuds in place and adjusted them so they would play the music that soothed his nerves while the princess gathered what they would need. He allowed his eyes to track the patterns in her floor, not daring to look up, even though without sight he could practically _feel_ every inch and crevice of the mountain around him, the trains that cut through the energy in an efficient swathe to transport it. 

When Shuri returned, she had removed her armor and was wearing a bright orange lab dress. "The first room is ready," she said, gesturing for him to follow her down the corridor. 

Loki was lead into a sectioned-off white room, and the relief he felt at being enclosed inside it sung through him, as the world became _less_. At the center of it, encased in a clear box upon a pedestal, was a single piece of vibranium metal, about the size of a fist. Besides that, and the electronic screen that took up a far part of the wall, the space was empty.

When Loki glanced at Princess Shuri, she smiled. "I will be observing from outside, but you will be able to see and hear me on that screen. I don't want there to be any extraneous vibranium energy in here for you to interact with when I activate the room."

"Activate the room," Loki repeated, growing nervous. "And what will that do?"

"Nothing to you," she reassured. "Not directly. I have been working very hard on this." She gestured at the white walls, her expression pleased. "All of the technology in Wakanda is designed to work with the vibranium around us. I have previously developed shields and stabilizers to affect pieces of the metal for transport, but I've never attempted to keep the energy from the land _out_ of a specific space without affecting the properties of a vibranium presence within it. I think that may be the key to helping you."

"Never" made Loki's nervousness grow. The calming closeness of the walls was beginning to take on a sinister edge as his mind began to whisper of the possible danger, the lies that could be hidden behind the words, a facade waiting to drop and trap him. 

He struggled to keep his thoughts moving at a normal pace, to drag them back to the present. "So this...containment...when it is activated, it will mimic a location in possession of no added vibranium energy. Like that of Norway."

"Until I expose the metal on the pedestal, yes. We are starting small, so I may take individual readings as you interact within range of a source of a specific size." She shook her head. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to develop technologies with less efficient materials? I could design a better computer system with the traces of vibranium found in branches and dirt."

Loki was unsure whether or not the words were meant to be an exaggeration. 

She did not wait for him to answer. "That reminds me," she said, and held out her hand. "Give me your earbuds. We don't want them interfering with the data." After Loki removed them and handed them to her, she gestured at his clothes. "And you should probably give me those as well. There are traces of vibranium in the fibers."

"Are there," Loki asked, voice flat, making no move to remove anything.

"I'm serious," she said, eyes far too large and innocent. "We don't want to compromise the data."

Loki continued to stare, dubious, until finally her face broke with a grin and a laugh. 

He rolled his eyes and turned to the pedestal. "Commence the experiment at your convenience, princess."

"That would have worked on Bucky," she remarked as she exited the room. A moment later the screen across from him came alive, and she was still grinning as she waved. "Ready?"

"Yes," Loki answered, grateful that he was not to be left alone. 

"And room activated in three, two, one..."

Immediately everything became dull, as if he was encased in a thick bubble filled with soft down. His connection to the constant feed of information from the world around him was gone. The sudden cut-off left him reeling for a moment, but he adjusted quickly, breathing a sigh at the release from the land demanding his attention.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

Loki disengaged the implants, wondering at the lack of lashing energy. _This is what you could be, if you had even a semblance of control._ "I am ready for the next step."

The barrier around the vibranium on the pedestal fell. Loki did not feel any appreciable difference at its exposure.

The princess was gazing down at readings being displayed over her beads. "We will keep it simple for now. I want you to spend some time simply producing magic at varying intensities. Try your best to avoid directly interacting with the vibranium - I want to see how the energy from it reacts to you just being in the room."

Loki rolled out his shoulders, ready to begin. "Any requests for particular spells?"

Shuri paused, and her eyes grew much more interested. "For now I would like you to keep things fairly consistent. But maybe soon you can make me a list of the possibilities."

Loki felt a part of himself go grey with resignation. It would be worth it, he told himself. He began to cast a series of illusions - starting small, and over the minutes increasing them in size and complexity, from stagnant illusions to living creatures. 

As he formed a caracal to bound about the room - he had, despite himself, grown rather fond of their form, and the feathered fur at the tips of their ears that curved like horns - Shuri's voice sounded cautiously on the speakers. “Do you want to return home with your brother?”

Loki kept the illusion going, transforming it into the larger rippling black of a panther, allowing it to distract him from his emotions as he kept it loping about the perimeter. "Your science is clever, princess, but your deductions of social interactions could use some fine-tuning."

"Why, because you and Thor had a fight? You live in a tent with your best friend," she pointed out. "That does not mean you never argue with him. Or that no one ever hears it."

Loki sighed, deciding that he would very much like to have another attempt at convincing Bucky to allow him to at least ward their hut against sound coming out from within it. “I understand that you have a marvelous bond with your sibling. That is not the truth that spans all such relationships." 

The panther morphed into the larger bulk of a male lion, open-mouthed and panting, fangs exposed as it paced. 

“I just wanted you to know that you have it," she said. "The choice.”

_Yes, all of you here are quite adamant about such things. Should I prefer that the blade that removes my head be serrated or smooth?_

Despite himself, Loki imagined it. The control of his implants handed over to Thor. Returning to an Asgard that was free of Odin. 

Becoming a laughingstock among Thor's friends. The people able to openly speak and jeer at him without fear of retribution. Being forced to engage with his brother, never being able to leave beyond what radius was set for him. Not even allowed to die to escape.

Thor would probably see it as a mercy.

All the while Loki would suffer, his mind screeching - _stolen relic, Asgard’s pet, existing solely for the sake of the king’s desire for companionship-_

The lion was snarling wildly at the screen.

Princess Shuri spoke with guilt. “It was bad of me to mention that.”

Loki attempted to swallow passed the severe tightening of his throat. He gestured, and the lion became the gigantic, heaving mass of a buffalo. “And what,” he said, sarcasm a thin coating over his distress, “would make you think that?”

The guilt in her eyes intensified. “Your people...they live for a very long time.”

The room was not quite large enough for the buffalo to make easy rounds - its horns brushed against the pedestal in rippling green as it wandered. “We live quite an average amount of time, I would say. It is your people who are like mayflies.”

Shuri's voice softened with sadness. “Is it my fault?”

Loki blinked and turned to stare at her. The buffalo let out an explosive grunt, the sound echoing in the room's confines.

“You do not trust, even now," Princess Shuri said. "You are offered freedom and you refuse it. We tell you that there are things you would be allowed beyond this and you recoil. You must remember your life before. So, either this is a behavior you've presented for a while, or...it was learned. Recently.”

“You give yourself far too much credit,” Loki said.

She lifted her chin in challenge. “You think so?"

“Yes, and I did not come here to provide you with _comfort_ ,” Loki hissed. “I am here to understand how to better control myself.” 

She did not appear pleased with his answer. “And you think one does not have to do with the other?” 

Loki let his eyes fall shut, a sigh quaking out between parted teeth. “Do you know my full title?”

She frowned. "You mean your name?"

“To say it is a name only is to simplify it on the grossest scale. I am Loki. Once I was Loki Odinson, and Loki of Asgard. Those descriptors, I found, were tenuous. They could be crushed and pulled apart by the right events. But the core of me, the name that followed me as long as I could remember, given when Odin sought deeper meaning for my existence in a well that sits in the roots of the World Tree, Yggdrasill - was the God of Mischief. The unshakeable truth of my very self.”

The princess leaned forward so her face was closer to the device projecting her image. “But mischief in of itself isn’t _bad_. There have been studies-“

“That was not the whole story,” Loki interrupted. “I went to the World Tree myself when I was very young. I found the hidden paths. I told my minders and Thor conflicting stories, so that they would not worry. And in the waters of that well at the heart of Asgard I was given the second half to my moniker: not just Mischief, but Lies.” Loki laughed. “I had believed the words would infer intent of my power. But no one is simply given the titles of their godhood - they must _earn_ such a naming. And I had always assumed it was my silver tongue that had lead to it.”

She still did not look impressed. "So someone was using this well as a communication device to speak with your people. Why should _their_ truth be any more certain than anyone else's?"

"Perhaps you are right." Loki waved his hand, and the buffalo became an bull elephant, curving tusks extended and grazing the wall, back nearly pressed to the ceiling. “But to that point, I have wondered if I had missed the greater meaning in my second name. The God of Lies - specifically, not just one who forms them, but one to whom they are often drawn."

She looked stricken. "You are referring to my father's promise."

"Only one in a very long line. The greatest torments I have ever experienced in over a thousand years of living all came about through honeyed words, false and sweet. I wonder if the well had told Odin my full title, and he had simply kept it from me to try and prevent its manifestation.”

The princess watched him with eyes that glistened. Loki was reminded yet again that despite her intelligence, she was still only a child. 

She cleared her throat. “Is it really better to expect that everyone lies?”

“Everyone does lie," Loki said. "Your entire civilization was built upon lies, princess, lest you forget. Just because you have sought to show some of the truth recently cannot wash away hundreds of years of it." With a gesture, the elephant disappeared into a shimmer of green. "If you learn to expect deception, you will be less broken by it when it happens.”

"But the point of that argument only works if you expect the _correct_ deceptions," she said. 

Loki shrugged, finding that his emotions had managed to file themselves into numbness. "I find imagining the worse case scenarios to be expedient. And I have a very vivid imagination."

"I think it's stupid," the princess said decisively. Her gaze lowered to her hands, the heat leaving her tone. "But I guess I can't really talk." 

"The world might teach you yet," Loki said, not feeling any sort of satisfaction at his victory. "Now, what is the next step?"

\----------

Hela had thought Helheim was a shithole, but Midgard was quickly proving itself to be at the very least a close second.

She'd woken to find that she had been bound again, and much more extensively - with metal instead of cloth - and thrown into a new cage, a tiny windowless room. The pain at her side was still sharp as a burning coal, but its grip on her power had weakened. 

A man came to see her, to posture and threaten, and warn her to behave or face terrible consequences. She'd laughed in his face when he'd explained the terms of her punishment - endless imprisonment, no visitors - as if she had anyone on this pitiful lump of rock that she cared for. Her amusement overflowed at the absurdity of it, the fact that a _mortal_ was trying at the feat that the Allfather had to give his very life-force to achieve.

And he'd just left her there, evidently believing that his point had been made.

Rage was building in her blood as the minutes passed. It seared her veins and sent her teeth clenching. She fought the restrictions on her magic, allowing her physical restraints to remain as she carefully began to bring her blades into being - but not in her cell, and not with the intent to break herself free. 

Instead she sent them burrowing, whittling through her released magic bit by bit, forming small pockets walls, in the floor. When she grew too pained, she stopped, exasperated, but not wanting to end up unconscious for a _third_ time since being released. 

After what had to be hours of work she had cultivated a growing armory, hidden in the unseen spaces of the prison. She could feel the lives that moved near the blades, waiting to be extinguished, to die so that she might grow stronger.

Her return to Asgard would have to be, regrettably, postponed. But she was the Goddess of Death, and she had drawn on her power alone in a realm bereft of life. This would be simple by comparison.

She began quietly, concentrating hard as she carefully moved more blades into place. At some point, the lights in her cell dimmed, likely to help denote the passage of day into night. As bodies moved to their beds, guards and prisoner alike, she searched for the best positioned of her weapons and decided a test run was in order.

She sent a few of her blades bursting upwards. The first dozen mortals passed this way, their spines severed before they could even scream. When their bodies were eventually checked, the guards would find no evidence of her weaponry.

Several minutes later, the alarms began to sound. She was looked in upon by passing guards, and quickly dismissed as they continued their urgent patrols.

Alone in her cell, she allowed a quiet grin of satisfaction to form. Already, she felt a bit better. She still had time on her hands; she could wait a little longer, and allow her continued anger to feed her drive. There would just need to be some continued improvisation for her plan to work. 

Those that stood in her way would fall. And when she returned to Asgard and regained her army, Midgard would be the first to writhe screaming beneath her conquest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning for everyone here for the Loki angst...he's not in this chapter. He'll be in the next one. ;)

Thor wasn't much of a pacer. After Loki left with Shuri, he withdrew and went still like a hovering stormcloud, staring at the space in his immediate vicinity like he really wanted something to hit or tear apart.

Despite all that, Bucky found that he was a lot more relaxed around him now that Loki was out of his reach.

He still wasn't the guy's biggest fan, and wanted him out of Wakanda as soon as possible. He might have even hated him a little, especially considering whatever fucked-up family issues were boiling between him and Loki. (They'd talked about Thor's threat to kill Loki like it had been a goddamned _disagreement over dinner_.)

But Thor had also been pretty consistently respectful of Shuri, and that wasn't nothing.

At the moment, Wilson and Steve were trying to catch Thor up on what had been happening to the rest of the Avengers while they'd been gone, and the fact that most of them were fugitives. It wasn't something Bucky felt like he needed to listen in on ( _or be reminded of_ ) or add anything to, so he wandered over to the front of the jet to stare out into the dark.

Movement at his side had him glancing over. Romanoff was offering him a headset. 

"I could use a second set of ears," she said with a small smile.

Bucky warily took the headset, sitting down in the copilot seat. He didn't put it on, wondering what information Romanoff was looking for this time. 

"You don't have to worry about Thor," she said. "He was Loki's number one cheerleader even back when he was killing people." She tilted her head. "Kind of like Steve with you."

Didn't look like pulling punches was on her to-do list. "I get it. Thor's popular." Bucky ran the pads of his fingers over the headset in his hands. "You weren't trying very hard to convince me on that before."

Her smile faded a little, and she brought one shoulder up and lowered it. "Well...maybe it wasn't about him."

Which meant it had been about Loki, and what he'd done before getting locked up underground. Or the bullet scars that were hiding beneath her tactical armor. Or even the fact that it was technically Bucky's fault that they were all now forced to live their lives on the run. 

Or any number of other countless mistakes that Bucky was never going to be able to answer for.

"Besides," Romanoff said, drawing his attention again, "I like to consider different angles. Someone has to operate on a slightly different level from Steve."

There was a hint of humor in her tone, something other than the straightforward seriousness of their previous interactions. And the subject matter made the words more convincing as the olive branch that they were, instead of the premeditated manipulation that Bucky's instincts would otherwise assume.

He forced his limbs to relax and shook his head - Romanoff wasn't his enemy, he had to remind himself. The long day of surprises hadn't done well for his nerves. "I don't think anyone can operate on Steve's level, anyway; he's in the fucking thermosphere. Sam's gonna try, but he's going to end up frozen to death."

"Did you just kill me in a metaphor?" Bucky turned his head to see Wilson approaching. "Which doesn't make sense anyway, by the way, since I'm the most qualified to be on a higher level seeing as I actually _have wings_."

"Can't argue with that," Bucky said. He noticed the spot where the others had been just outside the Quinjet was now vacated.

Wilson followed his line of sight, then folded his arms. "Steve and Thor took a walk. Steve's going to see if he can get clearance from T'Challa for a new weapon for Thor delivered through Wakanda's barrier."

Romanoff looked curious. "What kind of a weapon?"

"Thor's dad's old spear, which is his now that he's king. He said it's not really his thing, but apparently it's on par with the hammer when it comes to out and out raw power."

Bucky had a flash of memory - the ground crumbling and splitting beneath him with a roar and a crack. Yet another reason to be thankful that Loki had gone away with Shuri. He couldn't see the sight of the spear invoking any sort of good feelings in him.

Wilson nodded to the headset, his brow a hard line. "How are we looking on the Raft?"

Romanoff's easygoing expression had faded into something more serious. "Hela's been moved to one of their highest grade holding cells. There was no containment breach, but she made them nervous."

Bucky straightened in alarm. "She woke up?"

"She tried to get out," Wilson said. "It didn't work. At all." He looked at Romanoff. "You know Steve's considering another break-in."

"It wouldn't be very hard," Romanoff answered. "I've already got a good layout of their new security systems."

"I'm just wondering if it's necessary," Wilson said. "They had the tech to contain Wanda."

"She's a kid, not a thousands-of-years old alien hellbent on conquering the universe," Bucky argued.

"You mean like the guy you decided to start a domestic partnership with used to be?" Wilson raised his eyebrows. "Because he looks like he's pretty under control."

Bucky tightened his jaw in consternation. "Loki's bound with tech specifically geared towards his magic. The ones we used on Hela were a fluke meant for Odin, which is why they aren't working as efficiently."

"You and Loki still sent her over the side of the cliff," Wilson pointed out. "Your special arm didn't get any juice from that?"

Bucky shook his head. "It needs physical contact. It was originally just a product of the design mainly meant to help keep the arm from getting overloaded and shut down."

"That's how the Task Force kept you contained in Berlin," Romanoff noted. "They disabled it with an electrical current in the restraints. It worked, until Zemo cut the power and it came back online."

"Yeah," Bucky said, unhappily fending off the return of that memory. "Not really an issue for me anymore."

Romanoff sat back, considering. "So you'd need to get close to Hela before the Wakandans could develop anything strong enough to keep her down."

Wilson's expression tightened in displeasure. "I kinda feel like all of that is the opposite of the point I was trying to make."

"It's too much of a risk," Bucky said, glancing between them. "We'd have to get a sample back to Shuri so she could generate the technology before we could even use it. We need a better plan."

A bright flash of light lit the sky in an array of colors, putting all three of them on edge. 

Bucky moved to his feet, staring through the windows towards the area the flash had seemed to originate. "What the hell was that?"

"I think that was our better plan arriving," Wilson said.

It was only a few more minutes before Bucky heard the returning footsteps of Steve and Thor. The latter ducked into the Quinjet with a familiar spear in his grasp, and Bucky felt his prosthetic tighten up at the sight. 

The emotions that had been weighing Thor into his sulk were gone, replaced by a look of determination and purpose. He stood tall, ten times more confident now that the new weapon was in his possession. Bucky wondered if he was just imagining the golden sheen that seemed to glow from his skin and armor.

"I spoke with Heimdall," Thor said, his voice like rumbling thunder. "He says that Hela has already begun to kill within the prison."

Bucky wanted to ask how in the hell Thor was able to keep talking to someone who it sounded like was a couple of million light years away from them, but the curiosity faded quickly as he registered the second part of his statement. 

Romanoff frowned, raising a hand to her headset and pressing it closer to her ear. "No one's mentioning anything."

Thor didn't look surprised. "She formed blades of death beneath those that lay in their beds to sleep. It may take time before it is realized."

Bucky felt a chill. The fight with Hela had gone fast, but he still remembered the swords she formed from nowhere, and the fact that even though her armor had been torn and she'd just escaped a millenia of imprisonment, she'd been able to hold her own against them.

"We must hurry," Thor said. "Heimdall believes that even separated from Asgard, Hela's power grows with every life that ends around her."

 _Shit._ Bucky swallowed, pressing his hand against his Kimoyo Beads and thinking of Loki and Shuri. Were they even still awake?

Steve looked grim. "Then we don't give her the chance to get any stronger. We take off now. We'll keep using the ammo meant for Odin against her. Buck," he said, and waited for Bucky to meet his eyes. "Are you with us?"

He nodded. Romanoff held her hand out towards him, an earpiece nestled in her palm. He carefully took it from her, putting it in place. 

The Quinjet's engines were started, the ramp sliding shut. As they rose into the air, Bucky used his Kimoyo beads to begin to send a message to Loki's tablet, then belatedly remembered that it was still sitting in their hut. He tried Shuri's beads next, and got an automatic response that meant she was doing sensitive experiments.

Not asleep, then. 

He stared down at the display above his beads. She'd probably still answer if he called. She'd prefer it if he called. 

But if Loki found out what he was doing, it wasn't going to go well. And any damage control Bucky tried was going to be cut short by the poor signal once they left Wakanda's borders and the vibranium energy contained inside it that powered the Kimoyo Beads. Sure, Shuri'd have her special ones on hand that worked even outside of Wakanda, but he'd be in full view and hearing of Shuri and everyone on the Quinjet.

He let his hands fall into his lap, self-disgust curdling into a rock in his stomach. _You goddamned coward._

He was going to owe Loki one fucking hell of an apology after this.

Not long after they passed the Wakandan border, the guards on the Raft finally found and reported the first set of bodies.

\-----------

Hela was beginning to come to the conclusion that Odin was, unequivocally, the greatest bastard that had ever seen fit to draw breath.

Even in death, he'd managed to bring her low yet again, stranding her off Asgard and far from the rejuvenation it promised.

He could not even have the grace to die and just let her get on with the inevitable, to take what was hers by _right_. He'd had his time, his Asgard of idyllic harmony - now it was her turn to carve out a future as it's rightful queen, the very destiny he had groomed her from childhood to attain. 

She found that her expectations of her own patience were beginning to fall short. With the chance to regain her power so tantalizingly in her grasp, the waiting lives ready to be extinguished all around her, her sense of purpose made the the slowness of its execution nearly unendurable.

But she was _not_ going to let a dead man defeat her.

The lights had come back up in her cell. She'd worked the entire night, driving what power she still held deep into the walls of her prison, building layers upon layers of it in careful thoroughness, the pain and hate urging her forward. She could feel Asgard calling, a distant beacon beckoning her to regain her strength. Out of reach, for now.

Yet perhaps not for long. It was time.

As the final step, she began to form new armor over her flesh. Her capabilities were limited from her long exile, and whatever had been attached to her side yet stymied her magic, but she kept her power flow to a trickle, and the cloak formed sturdy and true and comforting.

When she strained, the metal restraints the mortals had bound her with broke beneath her strength. She moved to her feet and they fell from her to clatter loudly against the ground. 

The door to her cell was sealed, hiding the world beyond it from her sight. But she imagined they had other ways of observing her besides the little slot they had pulled back in previous instances.

It was good. She wanted them to have full knowledge of their mistake as she slaughtered them.

She summoned her headdress.

With a simple gesture, the blades she had so painstakingly formed in the depths of her cell's door were called to extend and stab and penetrate. The metal broke beneath their force with a great and thunderous snap, flying apart.

 _At last_ , she thought, smirking in anticipation.

She stepped out through the rubble just as the alarms sounded for a third time.

It was not long before humans came at her, heavily armored and with large projectile weapons that bounced from her skin like dying gnats. She had formed the budding beginnings of more blades beneath the floor they walked upon. With only a light prod of her power they burst forth, like terrible trees springing from the ground, spearing through each of her foes. The humans came upon her in waves, and collapsed like ants.

She found she felt better with every passing second. This was as it should be.

The rest of her escape came easily, with an ample audience of prisoners and guards as she slew warrior after warrior. Their cries were sweet as she coated the walls with their blood. The air soon became thick with the deaths of dozens, but it became clear to her that much of their efforts at containing their enemies lay not in numbers, but in the mechanical and electrical workings of the walls of the prison itself. 

Though it would not aid in helping her power grow as much as their deaths, she felt no less satisfaction in overcoming such an obstacle.

Everywhere she stepped, she allowed her magic to penetrate. She ravaged their defenses and destroyed the feeble machines that they used to signal their terror. Their closed doors and thick walls slowed her only briefly. She found the exit in appreciable time, and when she rose into daylight her good mood abruptly vanished.

 _Oh,_ fuck _it all._

Water bordered her on all sides, tumultuous waves as far as she could see. A grand ocean, larger than the whole of Asgard, and she was trapped in the center of it with no idea of which direction to turn.

Frustration nearly choked her. Her lips stretched into a snarl as her mistake was fully realized, the cost of her impatience. 

She had killed them all. Every guard, every commander, any authority figure that might have been of use for her escape on a world too unknown for her to navigate.

All that were left, were the prisoners.

She struggled to contain her annoyance, to sigh and regain her composure. Perhaps, she told herself, this was merely another opportunity, a gift in disguise. 

She would simply have to continue improvising. 

She re-entered the floating craft and searched among the living, those contained within cells of glass and bars. She ignored the ones that groveled and quaked, ending their lives quickly. 

"It's a mercy, honestly," she muttered as yet another's pleading was cut off by a quick blow with a summoned blade. "You're all better off dead. And at least now you'll be of some use."

Those that outright challenged her, or looked as if they would be entirely too difficult to bother with, she similarly slaughtered.

Finally, she found a man who watched her with fear in his eyes, but not enough to send him cowering and babbling into the corner. She paused at his cell, examining him. Dressed in the same flimsy garb as all other prisoners, he nevertheless stood straight and still, observing her with a healthy sense of caution, the stink of his fear not weighing down his posture in the least.

She pulled the bars of his prison apart and shattered the glass encasing him. "Do you know anything about how to steer this vessel?"

He looked briefly confused by her lack of preamble, but was nevertheless quick to respond. "It's not meant to be moved anywhere except under. That's how they keep us contained." 

She sighed - clearly she was going to need to remain almost entirely the brains of this outfit. "Those aircrafts on the upper levels - do you have the capabilities of flying them?"

He straightened, his frown deep. "If you can get me to one."

 _Finally,_ someone who would sensibly cooperate. "That will not be a problem," she said, and turned her back.

Her new companion stared in shock at the bodies littered around them as they traversed through the halls. "Holy shit - you really just took them all out."

"It's a skill of mine," she answered, already beginning to feel bored as she itched for her next battle. "Feel free to provide yourself with any of their weapons."

He did so eagerly, pulling on a heavy vest and boots before arming himself. Then he paused as he looked up. "You're not - I mean, do you want to stop and put on some armor, or something other than the cat suit?"

She raised her eyebrows. "This _is_ armor. I designed it when I came of age and wore it through decades of conflict to establish Asgard's rule over the Nine Realms. It did not come to ruin then, and it certainly won't at the hands of any feeble devices here."

"Yeah," he said. "That makes sense."

He said the words in a way that signaled he meant their opposite, but it was a form of appeasement and not mockery. Perfectly fine, as far as Hela was concerned.

She was dutifully followed, and it soothed some of her bruised ego. Here, at least, was someone who respected the power she wielded. "What is your name?"

"Jack. Rollins."

"And your crime to be placed into this prison?"

"This place wasn't even made for someone like me. They were supposed to sign a release when the Raft went public, but someone fucked up the paperwork."

Hela waved impatiently. "I asked for your _crime_ , Jack, not the sentencing," she said.

He looked at her a bit more nervously before he relented. "I was a double agent of HYDRA conspiring in the attempted murders of millions of people."

She grinned, her fondness growing. "Now, see, _that_ is much more interesting. Humans have always been a weak species, but you have a plucky penchant for violence and war. I am glad to see that much has not changed."

They entered a craft with mechanical whirring blades positioned upon the top of its structure. She stowed her headdress before she climbed aboard and lowered herself into a seat, enjoying the view as they left her prison behind.

The pain at her side had lessened, but she was careful not to touch the device that had sunk into her flesh. Her power would grow beyond it, and then she would see to its removal without care of its responding fury.

Then...oh, _then_...the sons of Odin were going to quite regret that they had not seen fit to properly finish what the Allfather could not.

Jack darted a glance her way. He no longer quite so strongly feared for his life, but his nervousness remained clear. "So...you're an alien?"

What an absurd term. "I am the Goddess of Death."

He scowled. "How the hell did the Marshals even catch you in the first place?"

The memory refreshed her anger. " _They_ merely reaped the benefits of someone else's victory. I was taken unawares by Odin's sturdier son, and his companion with the metal arm."

Jack's eyes widened with shock. "What the hell did you just say?"

"You don't know of Odin, either, do you," she said. Her father had evidently made himself such a soft touch that any hint of worship for the gods had faded among the mortals of Midgard. 

She would ensure they were educated.

But Jack shook his head. "No, I meant the other thing. You said there was someone with a metal arm."

"Yes. A warrior that I would very much like to kill." She narrowed her eyes. "Is he known to you?"

"Yeah. You might fucking say that."

Hela stared at Jack with new interest. "Tell me."

\----------

All messages from the Raft had cut off. There'd been no warning, not so much as a scream. Romanoff thought that Hela must have taken out their communications.

The prison was sitting at the surface of the ocean when they arrived, the doors for aircraft landing pad open and ready.

Wilson took scans with Redwing while they hovered in the cloaked Quinjet above the prison. He shook his head. "Everyone's just gone. I'm not picking up any signs of life."

Steve was standing near the ramp, staring down as the waves crashed. "What about the damage?"

"A lot of the basic electrical equipment still looks intact. Everything else...let's just say, I don't think we should expect any free wi-fi. And I wouldn't recommend taking any of the elevators."

Romanoff looked grim. "They'll send backup once they realize communications aren't coming back online, but it could take them hours to get here."

Thor hefted Gungnir so that it was held parallel to the Quinjet floor. "And they would only be offering yet more lives to feed her power. I will go down there."

Bucky stared at him. If Hela wasn't down there they would be wasting valuable time. If she _was_ still there...

He took a steadying breath. At least they'd be getting it over with.

Redwing zipped back up and into Wilson's pack. He peered down below as if just using his eyes would tell him something better. "I don't like this. A homicidal death goddess roaming the halls is about the only thing that could make a place like that worse."

"But she could not defeat my father," Thor said, with something that sounded suspiciously like forced bravado to Bucky. "The Odinforce lives on in Gungnir. I will use the remains of it to beat her again." A bitter smile formed on his lips, his eyes flashing darkly with humor. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Then, without waiting for anyone's further opinion or for them to even agree on whether or not they were going to stick to a plan, Thor just jumped, red cape billowing up behind him.

Bucky looked at Steve. Steve jumped.

Wilson followed both of them, his wings flaring out as he descended.

"Fuck," Bucky said under his breath. He looked towards Romanoff, who was still in the pilot's seat. 

"Go," she urged. "I'll keep an eye on things from up here."

 _Well, Barnes, at least this time you're deciding to do the damn falling yourself._ He sucked in a breath, and followed them down.

The prosthetic absorbed an appreciable amount of the impact as he rolled, but Bucky still felt the landing reverberate all the way through his spine as he rolled over hard metal. The others were already making their way down into the Raft, Thor bulldozing ahead without care or stealth.

Bucky inwardly cursed and followed them, raising his gun and keeping his focus on their surroundings. Steve had his shields flared over his forearms. 

They came across the first of the bodies in the hangar, huge stab wounds in their torsos, angled through their sides. 

Bucky knelt by them to check their injuries closely. A few of them had been run through stem to stern, exit points of whatever weapon had killed them visible at the crowns of their heads.

"How large is this vessel?" Thor asked, his voice echoing in the open space of the room.

"Huge," Wilson answered. "We're gonna be taking a lot of stairs if we want to give it a thorough look-through."

"That's good," Steve said, gazing carefully at their surroundings. "I've been feeling kind of light on the cardio, lately."

Thor took in the bodies around them, and held the spear in his hand close. "We will cover more ground if we split up."

"Gonna guess you haven't seen many horror movies," Wilson remarked. 

"We'll take it in teams," Steve said. "Sam, you're with Bucky. Thor and I will take the eastern stairwell. You take the west. Check for survivors. Move quick."

Wilson had Redwing take point, carefully scanning as they walked through wreckage and found more bodies. "God, I hated this place, but all these people..."

Bucky didn't really have a response, but Wilson didn't look like he expected one. He went quiet as they descended, only calling out each subsequent floor that they found clear.

Bucky was tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Hela to appear out of nowhere and drive them into close quarters combat. She'd even killed the prisoners, the people that were locked up and helpless.

He was ready to fire every last spark of energy from the prosthetic if he was given a clear shot. 

They searched for a long time in the quiet. The farther down they went the staler the air became, the scent of new death growing stronger. The Raft was huge, but plenty of cells on it remained empty, and Bucky felt a frisson of relief at any floor that they managed to walk through without needing to stop and check the status of corpses.

After a while, they reached the bottom set floors, where the intolerable but livable cells transformed into something more like small cages with solid walls. They were maximum security isolation chambers, so tiny and hellish-looking they sent Bucky's skin tingling. He didn't feel sorry that the poor bastards that happened to occupy a few of them had met their ends. It had probably been a relief.

Hela's cell among them was obvious when they reached it, the door broken clean off, discarded chains and a collar inside. 

Wilson called it on the coms. "We reached the breach. Looks like the doors didn't slow her down."

Bucky stared at the broken pieces of the door on the ground, frowning at the lack of visible impact damage. He looked back up to the frame, running his hand over it, really hoping that he was just imagining the ominous chill that seemed to bleed out from the wall.

"You find something?" Wilson asked.

Bucky clenched his prosthetic down against the spaces where the door was the most weakened. He hooked in his fingers and strained, bending the metal back until it peeled out with an awful screech.

He had a memory, of himself as a kid, grimy with mud and picking up a piece of dead wood, watching in fascination as the bugs that had been hidden in the dark and wet scurried outwards.

This kind of felt like that. Except instead of bugs, it was an array of deadly blades, all stacked on top of each other in an interlacing pattern.

Wilson cursed, his hand going to his coms. "We've got knives and swords in the wall," he said. "Unless they've got a funny way of hooking up the plumbing, I have a feeling we're looking at Hela's superpower."

Bucky raised his prosthetic, carefully touching the flat end of one of the weapons to take in any sensory input. "She was making swords out of nothing when she attacked us."

There was the sound of loud clanging through the earpiece, and Steve grunting. "We've got more on this side," Steve said.

Bucky moved to another wall further down, breaking off the outer layer with similar results. "Here too. Sam, can you get your bird to track them?"

"Hang on."

Redwing shot off down the corridor while Wilson kept his eyes on his goggles. "They're everywhere," he said. "In all the walls...the floor. I'm surprised this place is even half functioning."

There was a great groaning noise. Bucky went still.

Wilson whirled, staring down the hall towards where the sound originated. "Steve, tell me that was you."

"It was not us," Thor answered.

Bucky looked back at the bodies in the hall, an inkling stirring. "We need to get the fuck out of here."

"Nat, get into position," Steve said. "We're going to need an extraction soon."

Silence.

Bucky breathed out slowly, eyeing the walls that surrounded them, the floor, remembering the wounds on the corpses, the ones that looked like someone had rolled under them and stabbed upwards.

Steve's voice again. "Nat, do you copy? We're coming up."

No response.

Bucky felt a vibration at his feet the instant before he launched himself forward, grabbing Wilson's front and taking him down with him. Wilson's wings spread out as he hit the floor, then braced up and around them in a defensive cage as a hail of knives exploded from the walls and ceiling, pelting them from all angles.

It went quiet. 

Wilson was fighting to catch his breath beneath Bucky, who was torn between feeling grateful for the protection and rising anxiousness at the small space they'd been forced to take refuge in.

Wilson withdrew a section of wing, giving them a small window to see out of. Piles of swords created a menacing layer over the floor.

"Cap?" Wilson swallowed, his voice raising in volume. "Cap? You there?"

"Report," Steve said over the coms, breathless but alive. 

Bucky felt a jolt of relief. 

"No injuries," Wilson said. "But I'm not liking the odds of that continuing with how many levels we have to take to get out."

"We'll make our way to you," Steve said. "Thor's spear has some kind of shielding ability."

That was when the lights went out.

In the pitch black, Bucky felt the air change. His skin tingled like a thousand ants crawling before it was blanketed with a numbness that seemed to creep and slow his blood flow. It felt like something was trying to pull the life from him. 

"She is close," Thor said, echoing Bucky's thoughts.

His heart-rate kicked up. They needed space, they needed light, and they needed their enemy's location - _fast_. 

Two out of three of those things he could do.

He stared at the glow of Wilson's goggles. "Do you still have the Stabilizing Beads Shuri gave you?"

Wilson made quick movements beneath him, having to had noticed the same aura of coldness. "They're on," he said. "Barnes. Just wanna remind you we're underwater."

Bucky curled his fingers, letting the energy build in preparation for its release. "Yeah, but you have wings, remember?"

"I'm gonna regret this," Wilson said, and withdrew their shield back into his pack.

Bucky shouted as he punched upwards, sending an extended blast of green tearing through the ceiling, eating through floor after floor after floor as it disintegrated everything in its path.

Light filtered down, distant, but enough to break up the black around them. 

Bucky got to his feet, Wilson standing beside him, staring at the open channel the attack had created.

"Thor, Steve," Wilson said, "Barnes blew a hole through to the very top. We've got an exit route."

"Take it," Steve said. "Thor and I are protected. We'll sandwich her in."

"She will not escape," Thor said.

Wilson took a steadying breath and gripped his hands beneath Bucky's arms, then activated the jets on his pack and sent them shooting upwards. Bucky ignored the lurch in his stomach as they ascended, trying to keep himself still and streamlined to not fuck up Wilson's momentum, to put additional pressure on the straining arms that carried him up.

Knives shot out from each floor they passed, flying beneath them as the Falcon suit's jets fired hotter, moved them faster. Bucky managed to deflect a few of the knives without sending them too badly off course, but was forced to shoot his arm up wildly when one of the knives went for Wilson's neck. The movement unbalanced them and he felt the grip on his arms slipping, then Wilson cried out in pain and one of his wings grazed the edge of the tunnel, knocking them off track and sending them careening in a wild spin. Wilson managed to get enough control to turn himself so his wings took the brunt of the impact as they scraped against the floor, sending them crashing sideways into a wall instead of head-first.

Bucky forced himself to move through his new bruises, the adrenaline sending his instincts into overdrive. He'd dropped his gun at some point during their crash. They were still about ten floors down from the landing pad, the sun streaming down bright. 

Wilson was holding his left leg arched up from the ground, his pants torn and saturated with fresh blood at the back of his thigh. One of the blades must have managed to shoot in through the gap in the shielding of his wings.

A smug voice sounded, too close. "Oh, now you're just making my job ridiculously easy."

Bucky held his hand out as Hela rounded a corner down the hall, firing a blast of Loki's energy from his prosthetic that she leaped and rolled to avoid. The energy broke through the walls and seared through the outer casing of the Raft, sending water flooding inside in a violent torrent.

Wilson cursed again, struggling painfully to his feet, balanced heavily on his good leg as he raised his guns. He directed an accusatory look towards Bucky. "You just _had_ to do it."

Hela glanced at the approaching flood without fear. "Cute. You really haven't figured it out yet?" She stepped through the water rising at her ankles, spreading her arms, the air itself seeming to darken directly around her. "I had planned to leave this place, but now I'm beginning to see its use. A fortress at sea, molded to my liking. The starting point to my new empire. My triumphant rise from the ashes." She flicked her wrist, forming a sword in one hand that she examined with some irritation. "Still, weaker than I'd like. It was only anointed by a paltry sum of lives. But it was more than enough for this."

The holes in the floors above them and the damaged wall were immediately sealed off, blocked by interlocking swords. The light that had been visible through the opening faded to almost nothing.

Hela grinned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! There might be a couple weeks until the chapter after this - I really want to get my Marvel Big Bang fic mostly finished within the next few weeks, so will be focusing a lot of my time on that.
> 
> And, for those wondering, we're around one-third to halfway done with this fic. It might not end up as long as _Compression,_ but it will probably get close.

Facing down an alien death goddess, with hidden blades in every damn surface around him, his skin tingling and his muscles going stiff with that chill that had nothing to do with temperature, Bucky didn't think. He ran forward.

Blades exploded upwards, breaking beneath his prosthetic as he charged, reacting violently at the feel of the lightest vibrations beneath his feet. He kept the larger surges of power back, careful not to tear into the Raft's exterior again, needing to get close enough to Hela that she couldn't dodge.

The sword she raised to meet him shattered with a blow. Liquid fast, she formed another. And another. She built them as he broke them, an irritated snarl forming on her face as he pressed his attack. 

"Well, aren't you annoying," she said, and finally reached out and gripped into his fist to stop his movement.

Energy blasted out from his prosthetic. Hela went crashing into the wall, her bared hand covered in scorch marks. She glanced at her damaged limb like it had personally offended her, before turning her glare on Bucky. 

He stared back warily, remembering the metal of Thor's hammer breaking apart beneath her grip. If he hadn't been intentionally luring her into touching him, if he'd waited even a second longer before reacting, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't have a second arm right now.

"I would think carefully, if I were you," Hela said. "It seems you're underestimating my control of this vessel."

"The swords flying out of the walls gave us a good hint," Wilson said. 

"But you're not firing your weapons," she said. "Because you have half a brain." She turned her gaze back to Bucky, shaking her hand out. "You, on the other hand...you have something a bit more useful."

Bucky felt his hackles go up, his instincts screaming for fight or flight. She formed a blade in her unharmed hand. The other was too damaged for use, he noted - she couldn't heal herself in seconds like Loki. That meant it would probably take only a few more hits to her vital areas, and she'd be down for good.

Before he could advance, a tremendous roar shook the floor - like the sound of a fighter jet.

The wall blasted in and Thor charged through, bellowing his anger and skin glinting gold. He raised the spear, bringing it down towards Hela. She brought up her sword, jerking as Thor's strength bore down on her.

"Hello, sister," he said, and with a movement of added pressure, broke her weapon.

She was forced to grip the handle of the spear in both hands to stop it, grimacing as the skin of her charred hand tore away into glistening red. "Hello, brother. Found another hand-me-down weapon to steal? You should try being original." She shoved him off, forming another blade, her eyes glinting eagerly. "All that gold and power, and Odin never bargained for a better weapon to be made for his son? Can't say I'm entirely surprised. Especially considering you don't hit half as hard as the old man. Your mother must have been of a particularly weak stock."

Thor's rage sparked white in his eyes. He swung Gungnir in a wild arc.

Hela didn't dodge.

The spear contacted with her side and a spike of golden energy crashed through the air, sending them flying back from each other.

Gungnir fell between them, shattered. 

Bucky stared at the broken pieces in shock. All that power, and it was just _gone_. _How in the hell?_

Thor scrambled to his feet, gazing down at the broken weapon. Steve ran through the opening in the wall behind him, panting as he took in the scene.

Hela rose to her feet, stretching out her neck. "That was a little better." She glanced down at her side, and the blood that was running down it. She rolled her eyes with an angry sigh. "Really? I was sure that would have worked."

Bucky belatedly realized - Shuri's device was still in place. A weak spot. Now he could see it, a fade in the armor - indistinguishable before in the poor light. 

_"The Odinforce lives on in Gungnir,"_ Thor had said. And it had reacted violently to the device, and broken the spear.

Steve got the idea at the same time. "Thor, stay back," he ordered, then charged, picking up a piece of the shattered remains of Gungnir and launching it towards the site of the damage, piercing it into her side.

She snarled in pain. "You little bastard."

Wilson fired more of the anti-Odin devices, aiming at the ground at her feet. Hela crumpled further, the blood flowing faster as she was weakened.

She gestured, and the floor opened up beneath her.

Bucky was the closest. He threw himself in after her, his stomach jolting as she opened up floor after floor, lengthening their fall through the Raft, until they reached the very bottom. 

Bucky twisted before impact, the air expelling from him in a rush, curling around his bruised ribs before forcing himself to get to his feet. Hela's face was a snarl of agony - she'd landed on the side with the spear, pressing it in further. As Bucky watched, she struggled to her knees, her hand hovering over the metal of Shuri's device. She determinedly pressed her fingers into the wound, grasping it with a gasp and throwing the shrapnel from the spear across the room.

Bucky didn't give her time for further recovery. As soon as she locked eyes with him he shot a blast of Loki's energy - she flew back, her armor splitting down the side, the skin visibly blackened beneath it. 

She didn't get up.

Bucky cautiously approached, carefully feeling for any vibrations that would signal her swords coming up from the floor or the walls. She was unconscious, black hair fanned about her head, face slack.

He stood over her, energy crackling in his arm. He let it build up at his fingertips, a roar of power ready to be unleashed. If he aimed for her side, where the skin was weakened, it would tear through her all the more efficiently - assuming her physiology was human enough.

_(Blood flooded the grooves of his arm and dripped from his fingers. The target had been eliminated. The mission was successful.)_

Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the here and now.

 _Just do what you came to do,_ he thought. 

But his damn arm wasn’t moving.

She'd killed. She was dangerous. She had to die before she killed anyone else. 

Maybe a year ago, he would have known that. He should have known it now. There wasn’t a compromise here, it was just _common sense_.

She'd been kept imprisoned by her own father for thousands of years. 

He wished he could look at her and that his goddamn brain didn't see anything of Loki. 

She was unconscious. He had the arm, ready to absorb new energy, for Shuri to make something that could hold her better.

_There's no time, Barnes. What if she escapes on the way back to Wakanda? You can't bring her into their country and risk thousands of lives. And there's nowhere else that can hold her._

He ignored the churning in his stomach, and raised his fist.

"Soldier! Stand down!"

His entire body jerked in reflex to the voice, muscles tensing up in a panicked learned response before his brain caught up. Eyes wide, his mind overflowing with red, he turned to look.

Hela's sword ran him through.

Bucky screamed, the pain lashing up and seizing his lungs. He brought up every bit of Loki's energy and punched downwards, but Hela kicked him in the chest hard enough to send herself out of the line of fire and his aim went wide, tearing wildly through the walls and ceiling.

Water flooded over him in a blast.

\-----------

Something was wrong.

Loki struggled to keep his attention on his task. The princess had been gone from her station for too long. That in of itself would not have been of much concern - they had worked through the night, and her enthusiasm for her research could only power her mortal body for so long without a break. The sudden and prolonged agitated cursing, however, was a different matter.

He forced himself to continue with their work, wanting to make progress as quickly as possible, concentrating on weaving his spells without his magic being sensed by her devices.

"Loki? I'm sorry, but I'm going to need you to come out."

Loki exhaled, his mind jumping between possible reasons for her interruption.

"Careful - the energy of the mountain will not be held back once I break the room's seal."

The door to the experiment chamber opened. He clamped his eyes shut and tensed every muscle in his body, waiting out the seconds until the screeching of sensation once again became his new normal. 

Princess Shuri was standing outside of the chamber, her hands clamped impatiently together. When he approached her, she lifted up her wrist and displayed her beads. "I swear that I did not see this until just a few moments ago."

On the display above her bracelet was the message - _Hela's making her move. Heading out to stop her._

Loki read the words repeatedly. "When was this sent?"

"Earlier. We were busy." 

He read the words again, as if that would help to change their meaning. 

Gone. They had gone without him, as he'd feared. 

The princess turned off her beads. "Give me a moment," she said, and raced off.

Loki gazed without seeing, even the largeness of the princess's laboratory now a secondary concern. _You are a liability. You allowed your fears to overtake you and proved your worthlessness. You-_

"Okay!" Loki blinked, and stared at the princess, now again outfitted in her armor and weapons. She gestured impatiently to his hands. "What are you waiting for? Perform a locator spell. I'll take more readings while you do. We can multitask."

Permission. She had given him permission. He took in a steadying breath and instantly released his magic, focusing all of his power on pinpointing Bucky's position, feeling it flow out of him in an uncontained stream.

Nothing came to him.

His stomach dropped. 

Princess Shuri looked at him in concern. "What is wrong?"

He tried again instead of answering, again throwing everything he had into the spell, until the walls and floor of the lab began to shake. It was not helping.

 _I need somewhere I can better focus,_ he thought, his gaze moving to the experimental chamber. He rushed inside of it and slammed the door shut, allowing the lack of overstimulation to narrow his power. He took care, slow until he ached with it, and built the magic upon itself. Then he sent it out to the farthest reaches, falling to his knees as his lungs seized with panic at the feeling of so much open space.

The spell ended, and he fought the urge to press himself into the wall, only worsened by the rising horror that his magic still _had not sensed Bucky._

He stumbled out, energy flaying at his nerves with an overwhelming press of sensation. "You - there are restrictions from the implants."

The princess scowled at his accusation. "Do you really think that I would be so stupid as to directly tell you to use your magic and then obstruct its use?"

"Then why - I cannot - I searched throughout the _entire planet_ -"

Princess Shuri stepped closer, her eyes burning, her image wavering and growing progressively more blurred the more Loki struggled to draw breath. “Do not complicate this - just speak a single simple sentence. Say _exactly_ what you mean."

Loki's lungs were determined to fight him on every movement. "I cannot find him."

Shuri's eyes widened, and now he saw an increase in her fear. "What about everyone else?"

She was right. He had been with others. Loki immediately attempted a search for Thor, the violent blast of green energy startling Shuri. Nothing. He tried again. The Captain. The Falcon. No trace of them. The Widow-

The Widow.

She was there, hovering some miles out of Norway. In the middle of the ocean.

"I found them," Loki said, his own voice feeling as though it was being spoken by someone else, the only thing truly present the heartbeat straining in his chest and the howling of his mind. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, and held out his hand. "Princess, if you would be so kind." 

She neared him, and he gripped into her hand and teleported them in an instant.

The air in the Quinjet was cold, wind lashing through the open ramp and pulling Loki's hair wildly in every direction. The scent of salt filled his nostrils. 

The Widow was in the center of the aircraft, outfitting herself with extra weapons, one of which she whirled and aimed in his direction before she realized the identities of her new visitors. Her eyes narrowed as she lowered her gun, replacing it into its holster. "I was wondering when you were going to show up."

"Despite your best efforts to leave me behind, it would seem." Loki ignored the tremble in his limbs as he stalked forward. "Where are they?"

He saw a tightening in her lips. She indicated the open ramp. "On the Raft. Their communications cut out when they reached the bottom floor."

Shuri had pulled a small bead from her pocket and was staring at information hovering above it. "There are no signs of life," she said. "And no energy readings from any electrical equipment."

Loki's heart beat a crescendo in his ears. "Magic," he said.

Shuri tried to take more readings in frustration, tapping at her device. "Can you sense it with yours?"

Loki closed his eyes, feeling out the space beneath him. His mind told him there was nothing but open water beneath them, and the pelagic life that lived within it.

He opened his eyes again, and the Raft was still there. "No." 

The Widow pulled free a shock device. When Loki gazed at her, she raised her eyebrow. "What are we waiting for?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Someone has to make sure the boys are doing their job properly."

Shuri gave a quick nod. Her hand found Loki's, and the Widow joined them.

He moved them into the middle of the vessel, thick walls of metal. The air reminded him somewhat of being in the vicinity of the tidal forces of a black hole - a feeling Loki unfortunately had personal experience with. Deadness and weightlessness, and cold as a corpse.

At this proximity, he could feel it in the walls. It was nothing like Odin's stern balance or mighty rage, or Thor's percussive and jagged thunder, or the quiet and subtle warmth that Frigga had wielded. Hela's magic drained, ready to end life and build upon itself.

It had caused so much damage and insinuated itself so completely in the prison's structure that tampering or removing it would result in the destruction of the entire vessel.

If one were not a god enhanced with vibranium.

Loki shut his eyes and allowed his power to infiltrate his sister's, holding the walls steady, blocking the usage of the blades he could feel within. 

He recognized traces of himself, from above and below. His magic, but faded. _Bucky._

Below was more recent.

Loki looked downwards. The vessel was vibrating around them, the pressure within it changing. Above them he sensed moving figures - Thor, the Captain, the Falcon. Beneath him...the ocean raged.

"The others are above," he managed to say over his building worry. "I cannot sense Hela. Or Bucky."

Shuri brushed her hand over her Kimoyo Beads, very deliberately showing Loki as she removed the restriction on his radius. "Go. We will take care of ourselves."

Loki did not even take the time to respond - he teleported one level below, then to the next, taking in the evidence of destruction around him. He continued on, scanning quickly, his dread rising with each subsequent tier he found unoccupied. As he reached the last sets of floors, he found the topmost among them ankle-deep with a quickly rising deluge of saltwater. Anything beneath would be completely filled.

He shut his eyes, and moved down. 

Darkness and pressure and cold rushed in to meet him. The world was muffled. It was almost comforting. 

He strained his magic, for once missing the ease of over-sensing that Wakanda provided. Nothing. There were bodies, but none of them Bucky.

He moved to the next floor down, and another, and he found the spot that the water rushed in - a huge tear in the bottom of the prison, and what looked like the last of several floors completely destroyed. The damage had been made from his own magic. He quickly sealed it up, crushing the walls of the Raft together and preventing any more of the ocean from rushing in.

He moved back up, seeking out the higher levels one after the other, ignoring the Avengers when they startled upon seeing him. 

There had to be something he'd missed. 

He moved back down, again into the water, and retraced his same path, looking for even the smallest trace. He checked every cell, every corner, every crevice. 

He even moved himself beneath the Raft, into the deep dark, floating beneath the water as he sent a locator spell pulsing out into the world, illuminating everything.

 _Please,_ he thought, but there was nothing of Bucky. 

He'd spent so much time feeling too much, and now when he needed it, there was not enough. He'd willingly open his senses and allow the entire planet pour a blazing inferno across his nerves, and it did not matter.

His lungs began to burn from more than lack of air. 

He transported himself to the level containing the Avengers, who were busy ripping up the floors, Thor staying a healthy distance back from the devices they'd placed against Hela's blades to weaken them. Every one of the men tightened up in wariness at his reappearance - he hadn't bothered to remove the salt water clogging his clothes and hair.

The Falcon exhaled shakily. "God, I thought you were Hela for half a second."

"Where is he," Loki said, feeling as if he was going to vibrate apart.

"He jumped to the lower levels," the Captain answered. "Down with Hela."

"The stairways are blocked, we have been breaking our way through," Thor said, indicating the holes blocked up with Hela's death blades.

Loki felt his panicked rage surge higher. With a gesture he ripped away the blades in the floor, sending them shooting into the walls. The Avengers jerked back in surprise as he ripped up more, then fired a wisp-light down so there would be a clear view down to the water. "I was there. The lower levels are _empty._ The ocean invades."

The Captain's frown was deep as he peered down. He glanced up at Loki. "You searched the Raft."

" _Everywhere._ " Loki's chest heaved - he thought he might vomit, or scream, or _kill_. "You brought him - you let him _fall_ -"

Something pained crossed the Captain's face, overtaken when the Falcon moved forward to block his view, hands raised as if Loki were a wild animal. "Hey, why don't you take it down a few notches? We're on the same side."

"Are we," Loki snarled, not even bothering to attempt to contain his energy, which was hissing against the walls as it darted about chaotically in accordance with his rage. "Is that why you _left me behind?_ "

"No," Thor said. He stepped towards Loki, his hands fisted. "Loki, enough of your blame. If _you_ had not fled like a coward-"

Loki's mind broke.

When he next came back to himself, Thor was pressed against the wall, his armor glowing green beneath Loki's hands, the atoms in the metal pulling apart and rapidly heating. "I am not the same as I once was, Thor. Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to kill you?"

Voices were shouting behind him, but he paid them no mind. His panic was a hurricane of building fury, and the only one who he could pretend saw him not as the monster he was had disappeared and could no longer give that lie life. 

_He's gone. What reason do you have to hide what you are?_

Thor spoke in a strained, sarcastic voice, eyes bright with frustration. "Yes, so easy that you ran. You _always choose to run_ , instead of remaining to face your difficulties."

( _"Loki, you must run!"_ )

Loki let his grip tighten. Green light was beginning to gather beneath Thor's armor, until his brother's skin charred and blackened. "Let me prove to you the sense in such a strategy."

The sharp scent of ozone filled the prison. Thor's eyes and hands were beginning to spark with lightning, the jolt of it running through Loki's body. He let the sting of it drive his anger higher, his own magic pulsing and bending the walls, ready to destroy Thor, the Raft, himself - _absolutely everything_ -

His magic cut off. 

His lungs wouldn't take in air. 

He couldn't move. Every muscle in his body had been locked up into stillness. 

_No._

It took Thor a few moments to realize something was wrong. The lightning in his eyes died and was replaced by a furrowed brow. He looked down at Loki's fingers where they had sunk through his armor and gave a pained grunt as he pushed him away.

Without the hands to hold him up, Loki simply flopped to the ground. His limbs were unresponsive, his eyes unable to shut. Terror raged through him, but he could not struggle. Could not scream. 

And beneath it, he felt a hopeless contentment for the cruelty of the situation. Bound, and surrounded by the Avengers. Now he did not need to pretend any longer.

"What is this?" Thor moved closer to him. He felt his brother's boot dig sharply into his side, but could not react. Thor raised his eyes in accusation towards someone Loki could not see. "What did you do to him?"

"Back away from him," Princess Shuri's voice ordered, unfazed by Thor's anger. "Unless you want him to try and kill you again. And if you think you can handle that, I'm just going to let him."

"Not until you release him," Thor demanded.

"Sweet Bast, all of that thunder has damaged your ears - I just said that _I am going to._ "

"Thor," the Widow said, "you should probably take a step back."

Finally, Thor complied. Loki could not even move his gaze to keep him in his sight.

The princess entered his vision, staring down at him with tears in her eyes. "Loki, I'm sorry. I'm going to let you go, now. Please, remain as calm as you can. I don't want your brother getting any ideas."

She moved her hand over her Kimoyo Beads and he was released into movement. He gasped in a whooping breath as his lungs were released but stayed on the ground, throat tight and limbs trembling, his own eyes burning and wet.

"We can think through this," Shuri said, her voice unsteady but determined, as if she had not just been forced to make Loki relive his greatest torment to save Thor's life. "You found no body."

Loki did not think he could make himself respond if he tried. _Useless. Hopeless._ He wanted to run again, to find somewhere, away from the eyes locked onto him - a hole of a cave, where he could scream and scream and never stop.

"Oh no you don't," Princess Shuri hissed, crouching beside him. "You do not give up after only twenty minutes of searching. There was _no_ body?"

His stomach pained him, clenching around the emptiness that had filled it in the absence of his rage. He shook his head and shut his eyes, feeling tears fall free. "It means nothing."

"You said you could not even sense the Raft," Princess Shuri said. "So, some kind of cloaking magic?"

The Captain moved closer. "Loki, you know Bucky's strong. He could be out there somewhere."

The Falcon spoke next. "Hand to hand, using your super magic, my money would have been on Barnes to beat her. Maybe she thought running was a good idea."

"She was injured," the Captain said. "That device was still in her side."

Their optimism was grating. "She is the Goddess of Death," Loki said through grinding teeth. "It is not a ceremonial title. And if he was outside of this vessel I would _know_."

"So where is she?" the Captain asked. "You said you tore apart this place looking. Seems unlikely that they'd wait until they were off the prison to keep fighting." He moved his shields up. "Let's do one more once-over. Check every cell. I want visual confirmation."

The Widow frowned. "Steve, we won't have forever before the reinforcements show up."

"Then we'll make it fast. Loki, your magic...can you get the water out of the lower levels?"

Loki slowly sat up, refusing to wipe away the damp trails that coursed down his face. The Avengers tried to mask it, but he could sense their nervousness as he moved. 

"Yes," he answered, his voice hoarse. "I can."

Shuri watched him carefully as he climbed to his feet, then with a nod, she granted him use of his magic.

He closed his eyes, and focused.

There was a great booming noise, and a screeching tear. The Raft began to violently shake.

Thor realized first. He snarled. "What have you done?"

Loki opened his eyes. "We have approximately thirty seconds until this entire prison disintegrates. I would suggest everyone move within physical contact so we might escape before that happens."

The Falcon bared his teeth in disgust. "What are you _doing_ , man? Barnes could still be down there-"

"As amusing as your lack of faith in me is, there is _no point_ to further search." Loki's heart pounded against the walls of bone that protected it. "Do you not understand yet? Hela's magic is death, so completely that it will block out any sign of life from detection. There was a giant tear in the base of the prison. The princess is right - if she escaped, we would not know it." The shaking intensified, until he could tell himself it was entirely from the vessel around them. 

"We're not just giving up," the Captain said. "If Hela's still out there-"

"We will know where she is when thousands of people begin to die," Loki said. His throat was closing. 

"You're still getting rid of evidence," the Widow said. "Thor's right - you're panicking, you want to run, and you're erasing valuable clues while you're doing it."

"That is not all," Princess Shuri said. "What do you think is going to happen when a large shockwave of your magic is the last thing detected before the Raft is destroyed?"

"You're doing Hela's work for her," the Widow agreed. "Covering her tracks. No one will be looking for her - they'll all be following the trail you left instead."

Loki snarled. "I do not _care!_ " 

There was no point - he had done everything in his power to hold onto the life he had been building, and Asgard had come to tear everything away from him all the same.

 _But,_ he thought, _what if you are wrong?_

They all watched him with varying degrees of simmering violence - Thor's the highest, followed by the Widow. But the princess was the only one who could truly stop him, and she only stood still, with her hands braced at her sides.

"No," she stated, raising her chin, "You think you're intimidating, but I am not letting you drive me to put you into stasis again."

Loki kept his eyes locked onto her as he stubbornly allowed the damage to spread, his desire to break everything overruling him for seconds longer. 

_What if you are failing him again?_

"Loki," Shuri said. "No."

At the last moment, Loki withdrew his power, smoothing out the damage he'd caused to the Raft, keeping it buoyant. The shaking stopped, everywhere but in his limbs.

"Thank you," the Captain said, his voice sincere, then began to relay orders to the others.

\-----------

The world became a blur after that. While the others searched, Loki sat upon the floor and performed repeated locator spells, his despair growing with each subsequent failure. He felt as if someone had torn out everything within him and replaced it with a terrible ache of numbness, and he cycled the spell so continuously that eventually he couldn't even feel the magic as it left him.

Someone spoke to him and he thought he responded, but there was no energy in the words. He continued mindlessly with his task, wondering if it was this that would truly make him mad, in a manner much more permanent than the five years underground and everything before had ever managed.

A tingle, an itch, a _touch _to his arm and he seized and flinched violently away, his skin suddenly screaming at the contact, his nerves completely overstimulated from the repeated input of the openness of the Earth.__

____

____

Then there was pain, a _jolt_ , and fire up his muscles. He instinctively lashed out, but his power was contained. 

The Widow was standing in front of him, her fist outstretched. Loki blinked as he struggled to remember where he was, wishing he could leave the howling of his heart behind.

"You knew that would work," Princess Shuri said, gazing at the Widow with some respect.

"I took a guess," the Widow answered. She waited a beat, then admitted, "I might have done something similar to your brother. Vibranium conducts."

Shuri looked delighted. "It must have been my brother's old design for his panther habit. I wish I had video evidence of that. What is it with men and giving their giant metal weapons a glaring weak spot?"

"Usually the metal comes out of it just fine," the Captain said, moving towards them from a staircase. "It's the damage to all the softer parts that becomes the problem."

The Falcon limped in behind him. "You got him awake," he said, looking at Loki. "You were right - Barnes isn't here. But you already knew you were right."

Loki stared, and did not answer, because he knew that if he did it would only be to precede another attack on his part, especially as Thor's appearance behind them stirred his weakened anger into new life.

The Falcon had enough sense to keep a careful distance, and folded his arms. "I opened with that because I still have a gut feeling. And I think you do too. Something happened down there - we just have to figure out what. He was beating Hela back pretty effectively with your super-powered magic-vibranium beams." 

Loki curled his hand until his nails bit into his flesh. _Perhaps he simply accidentally killed himself with it along with her,_ his mind supplied - and the pulse of agony that followed the thought stole his breath as it lingered in chest and abdomen. It was possible there would be no trace left of him, in that case - his atoms scattered into dust, lost for eternity.

Loki's voice trembled. "I fail to see your point. If he was so capable, _where is he?_ "

"That's what we're going to figure out," the Captain said. "And there's something else. Some of the cells on the upper levels were broken into, but there weren't any bodies inside them. Shuri, do you have that list for me?"

"Almost," Princess Shuri said, and Loki wondered how much had gone on around him while his mind had fled. "Here is what I have so far."

Thor moved closer while the Captain read, his frown deepening. "So? What manner of superhuman foes has she taken as her allies?"

The Captain's expression was growing more and more displeased by the second. "These prisoners were in standard containment. No custom restraints. No added force fields. Which means they weren't enhanced. Any of them." His frown deepened. "Nat."

The Widow moved to the list, her eyes scanning. 

The Falcon stared at the list of names, nearly wincing. "I really hope these aren't what I think they are."

"They're HYDRA," the Widow said, her face grim. "Every member of STRIKE that was sent to prison."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry about the loooonnnnnng wait. The Big Bang fic (the rough draft of which ended up close to novel length) derailed me for the better part of a month, and then I ended up with a massive health issue. There shouldn't ever be a gap that big between updates for this fic again. But! The next chapter won't be posted until mid-September, as I'm still dealing with said health issue and still have a lot of editing to get done on the Big Bang fic. 
> 
> Anyway, on to the ficstuff!

They could not remain on the Raft indefinitely, though the others insisted that Loki leave it untouched. Captain America, especially, wanted to ensure that the bodies of the soldiers that had passed under Hela’s attack were able to be recovered. 

Loki didn’t see why it mattered. The Raft was unsalvageable, and from the way they spoke, the guards that had occupied it would have been their enemy just as much as Hela. 

But he said none of that. “I can transport their bodies into a pile on the upper levels if that would help their discovery."

They stopped speaking with each other. Most of them looked at him as if he was a feral carnivore in their midst. 

He felt like it. He could see his hair beginning to dry, unruly against his face. Between that and his posture unwilling to relax from its agitated state, he knew he must look half-mad.

His voice remained flat. “Or would that not be respectful towards your dead enemies.”

He could see that they assumed he was being hostile. He didn’t bother to correct them.

The Captain breathed out, his brow heavy on his face. “The bodies in the water.”

Loki closed his eyes and teleported himself down. He searched in the darkness, grasping what guards and prisoners he could find and moving their corpses to the upper levels. Then he returned to the others, again drenched in seawater. “Done,” he said, ignoring the unsettled looks he was given at his reappearance.

"We'll leave in a minute," the Widow said. She held her hand out in a gesture, indicating for him to stand down. He wondered just how monstrous he looked to her. "Just stay there."

The Avengers gave him a wide berth as they performed their closing tasks. They carefully removed all traces of the ammunition used against Hela. Thor and the princess gathered what shattered remnants of Gungnir were left. The last piece of it, one the Captain had apparently used as a weapon, was lost.

Though he'd obediently waited for it, when they at last asked Loki to teleport them to the Quinjet, he was overtaken a strong surge of denial. He performed one final, useless locator spell. It confirmed that Bucky was not on or near the Raft.

The thought of leaving still felt like giving up.

He capitulated to their wishes, wishing he could go numb. And then, when they arrived on the landing pad outside of the princess’s lab, the very opposite happened. 

His knees wanted to fail him. He could not force himself to concentrate on anything but the abyss of howling despair that had overtaken his mind, a second chord paired well to the return of surrounding vibranium. He desired nothing more than to withdraw into himself completely, to crawl into the smallest hole in which he could fit and allow the world and its colors and open spaces and cacophonous nature to fade from him forever.

But the Avengers had spoken as if the information they had found regarding the escaped prisoners was valuable. He had no other choice but to struggle to stay, to pay attention, and hope that something came up.

Because the alternative was that he attempt to tear himself to pieces. 

He bitterly resented their relentless hope as much as he craved it, knowing that an absolute confirmation of Bucky’s death would send him into a second tailspin of violent mourning. The not knowing was the worst part. An endless stretch of his torment, balanced on the precipice of fate. As if he did not know which way it would fall.

He should have been used to losing everything by now.

He couldn’t help the sound that punched up from his lungs at this thought, low and full of grief. The Avengers knew better than to touch him while he was distressed this time, but that did not stop them from speaking. Their words were too loud, an indiscernible din. He quickly restrained his magic and jerkily pulled away from them, glad at least that this place was familiar to him now, even if his mind screamed for escape.

Somehow, he managed to pull himself into the main section of the lab. He lingered far on the outside of their gathering, needing distance and a wall on at least one side of himself to brace against while both his external and internal environments clamored for attention without end. 

There would be no safe and steady hands to lead him away this time. No firm, calming gaze to ground him when he was falling apart. No sting against his skin to pull his focus.

He ached. He thought he might die from it. 

Music sounded directly above his head, invading the clamoring of his thoughts. He jerked in surprise, then immediately noted that it was one of the songs meant to inspire mental peace. Apparently, he’d unknowingly positioned himself beneath one of the many speakers in the lab.

Hissing breaths through his nostrils, he sent the princess a narrowed-eyed look. She raised her eyebrows, as if daring him to argue, and proceeded to firmly instruct Thor to place the pieces of Gungnir he’d recovered onto one of her work stations, to begin scans so she could see what she could do to mend the uru. 

Loki shut his burning eyes, and tried to claw his way up from the fog of sensations and emotions. It was not quick, but eventually, his oversensitive body adjusted, and its resignation of the permanence of railing misery allowed him to reclaim his focus enough to seek out visual and auditory stimuli. 

Closest to him was the Falcon, who had been given new clothes of soft white cloth. He was resting on his stomach on a metal table while the Widow and Princess Shuri tended to his injured leg. Loki flinched back instinctively at the sight, then forced himself to note the lack of restraints or sharp implements. The scan beside the table showed only the injured leg, alternating views of veins and arteries to the tissue that surrounded them. The princess had removed her armor and redressed herself in a lab coat patterned in geometric shapes of deep purples fading into blue, like stained glass. 

The Falcon’s voice held a grumble of discomfort, but he was not in agony. His cheek pressed against a pillow of his forearm. “It might not mean anything. They could have moved them all out already. The Raft was in deep shit when the public found out the government was using it to house non-enhanced civilians.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence,” the Captain said. He stood somewhat to the side, shields removed, but still in uniform. If he did not feel the certainty of the words, he at the very least managed to project it to others with full confidence. “The question is, why would Hela decide STRIKE were the people to spare?”

The second time that word had been spoken within his hearing - or at least while he had been in enough possession of sense to hear it. Loki swallowed, trying to allow himself to be further soothed by the noise above his head. “What is STRIKE?” His voice came out far too hoarse for the emotionless quality he was attempting to inflect.

All of the Avenger eyes turned to him. Only the princess, who was comfortable with his behavior, did not look surprised at his sudden engagement.

"HYDRA," the Captain soon said, as if that explained everything. “A terrorist organization bent on world domination.”

“Deposed,” the Widow said, jerking a shoulder up and lowering it. She, too, was still in her uniform. “Mostly.”

Loki presented them with a blank look, warring with the frustration he felt whenever his requests for clear clarification were denied. “Why is STRIKE - which as you have explained, are merely a handful of mortals without heightened intelligence or strength - be given consideration beyond the fact that they are simple fodder for Hela’s power?”

Princess Shuri broke in, her expression sad. "Bucky never told you."

Loki stared at her. "Told me what?" 

Now they were all staring at him, some of them breaking off to glance at the others anxiously - an indicator that they all knew what the princess spoke of, but were individually unwilling to be the one to volunteer the information.

"Loki, you're gonna have to promise not to try and incinerate the walls again," the Falcon said.

"My power is bound, and I am at your mercy," Loki said, furious that he continually needed to remind them of that fact. "Told me _what?_ "

“Barnes spent decades as a HYDRA operative,” the Widow answered, her eyes carefully tracking his reaction. “Five years ago he was working with STRIKE.”

“He was brainwashed,” the Captain quickly added, the words almost a protest. “They erased his memories of his life before they took him. He didn’t have any choice in what he was doing.”

“It was rigorous mind control,” Princess Shuri agreed. “Over a period of fifty years. They were idiots, repeatedly trying to cause permanent damage to a man with that level of cellular regeneration.”

“But he escaped and recovered,” Loki said, yet was immediately unsure of his own words. Bucky had not been terribly open with him about his life before Wakanda, save for his hints that he had done what he considered horrendous and violent things, and that there had been lingering threads by which he could be controlled that the princess had removed.

It seemed everyone else already knew the story in full detail. Loki tried not to allow the blow of that to sting him too deeply, knowing that his history with the scepter would have made the subject a poor one at best. 

If Bucky’s past had been something not deeply touched on between them, Loki’s had been a yawning blankness. But he’d seen Bucky researching his invasion, back when Loki’s weakness had him latching onto the kindness offered despite his best efforts to spurn it. The fact that the Wolf had known of his crimes and chosen to help him even considering this knowledge, and had not given an inch even when Loki had repeatedly attempted to make him prove his mistrust… the significance of both of those things had only been slightly overshadowed when Bucky had saved him by going against the Allfather himself.

By that point, Loki had wanted what the Wolf had offered so desperately that he’d stopped trying to make him see the monster beneath. Because he feared there was a limit, and his urge to find it had been far outweighed by his desire to keep what he had.

His failure of which had lead to now. 

“It wasn’t quick,” the Falcon said. “Even after he got out, it took Shuri’s genius to eventually get him to turn completely back into the asshole he is today.”

The Captain sent the Falcon a disapproving look. “The point is, he got better. HYDRA’s his enemy, not his ally.”

“And are we considering that they might have him again now,” Loki asked, his mind still racing with the information.

“I don’t think we can rule it out as a possibility,” the Captain said solemnly. “Bucky was...important, to their cause.”

“Barnes knows better, now,” the Falcon said. “He’d put up a hell of a fight. But yeah. If he’s alive, that might be where this is going.”

“Hela is not HYDRA,” Thor said. He too lingered on the outside of the group, a clear darkness shrouding his thoughts and emotions. First Mjolnir had been destroyed by Hela, and then Gungnir. Loki’s old self would have relished actively gloating in Thor’s complete defeat and humiliation, especially considering the surrounding circumstances of Odin’s deception. “She is powerful, and she seeks more power first and foremost. She would not allow anyone from Earth to have authority over her.”

“It could be the other way around,” the Widow said. She had finished bandaging the injured leg, and now straightened and looked between them. “If she’s weakened, working with a highly trained team from a paramilitary organization might be to her benefit. It’s definitely what she wants from Asgard. Maybe she decided to work with the next best thing.”

Loki wanted to believe there was another reasoning at work for their disappearance. But he could not ignore his own senses. “Yet this all assumes that they are not simply dead already.” He spoke forcefully through his closing throat. “There was no trace. I could locate a single mouse upon a mountain, and there was nothing.”

Thor directed his poor mood directly at Loki, his arms clenched at his sides as he approached. “So what would you have us do? Give up? Allow our sister to murder millions in her bloodthirsty conquest?”

“Assuming my wardens do not allow me to kill her if she resurfaces, yes,” Loki said, his limbs maneuvering themselves, ready for attack. 

Thor half-smiled, that familiar glint of brotherly antagonism beaming strong in his eyes. “Because that worked out quite well for you the first time.”

Loki was moving before his thoughts could catch up. The Avengers were instantly all on their feet between them, some with weapons raised to warn him away. Loki heaved in air as he locked eyes with his brother over their heads - Thor looked just as angry, sparks jumping between his fingers, the scent of it rising with a sharp odor.

Princess Shuri was furious, but her hand had not so much as strayed to her beads. “If either of you place even so much as a _scratch_ on anything in my lab, I am banning you from the mountain.”

“We need to work as a team,” the Captain said. His eyes were beseeching, even as his posture spoke of ready action should Loki turn aggressive. “Anything less than that and we’re losing valuable time.”

“If not, both of you are going to have to sit this one out,” the Falcon said, only somewhat unsteady on his damaged leg. He didn’t possess the same aura of surety, but he nevertheless also stood a willing barricade against Loki. “We’d really like to let you sort it out on your own, but since every time we’ve tried that so far has ended in you two trying to tear each other’s limbs off, I’m thinking we’ll hold off on a fourth round. They do have ways of resolving conflict on Asgard that don’t involve dismemberment and death, don’t they? Please tell me the answer is yes.”

“Not especially,” Loki answered, still glaring at Thor. He suspected he could tear his brother’s heart from his breast in that moment and feel absolutely nothing but bitter relief.

The Falcon sighed. “So who’s going to fill Thor in again, just to make sure he really understands what’s going on here?”

“Nat and I will talk to him,” the Captain said. The Widow nodded, her brow creased.

The Falcon looked to Princess Shuri, his expression long-suffering. “Guess that leaves you and me with tall, dark and homicidal.”

Still flush with anger, Loki only just resisted the urge to bare his teeth.

Thor was lead to the far corner of the lab while the princess collected a few articles of clothing and shoved them into Loki’s arms. He belatedly recognized them as the newest that he had designed with her program.

"Into the experimental chamber,” she said, tugging at his sleeve insistently. “ _Now._ ”

Loki sent one last gaze towards Thor before he reluctantly followed. He was still seething as the door closed behind them. 

“Now change your clothes,” Princess Shuri ordered. “You’re starting to make my lab smell of fish.”

He felt her insult in the back of his teeth - as if he _cared_ what state his appearance was in, now of all times. The fledgling return of his vanity had been shattered just as much the rest of himself. 

He unleashed a trickle of his power and let his magic stretch out over the bundle, using it to replace the dampened clothes that had been draped over him, and the boots over his feet. The dry cloth _was_ less irritating against his over-sensitized skin.

“You don't clean up half-bad,” the Falcon commented. 

Loki heaved in a breath, smoothing his hands over the lapels of his form-fitting coat, thinking distantly that the design was quite plain compared to what he used to favor. During his initial designs he’d considered doing the same as on Asgard, and inputting serpent-like accents. But his experiences had long soured any pride in that image of himself, and he found that even if the marks were particularly inconspicuous, the anxiety of knowing their symbolism was anywhere on his person had been too great to allow further such inclusions.

The Princess quickly placed the removed clothes outside of the chamber. “Much better. And now we are going to talk.”

Loki breathed out. “This is-”

“Pointless,” Princess Shuri interrupted. “We know. You’ve said that _many_ times.”

The Falcon folded his arms. “You care about Barnes. We all do. Do you really think this grudge match with Thor is your highest priority?”

Loki’s heart pounded - he did not understand why he needed to be _convinced_ , when they could simply force and threaten. If time was of the essence, that would be the clear path. “So I should simply ignore Thor until he decides it’s in his best interest to claim me as his prisoner. To uphold the wishes of Odin.”

“You’re _already_ a prisoner,” Princess Shuri snapped. “Now you are just actively trying to kill someone because you are upset that Bucky is gone. Is that how you would honor his memory? The man came to Wakanda to find _peace_.”

“This is what I am,” Loki snarled, and he could see his magic beginning to struggle to push itself faster through the opening in the implants he had not yet closed, green lights flickering and bursting. “Perhaps it is better that he is not here to see it.”

Princess Shuri threw her hands up. “What are you doing?” She gestured to her Kimoyo Beads. “Do you _want_ me to call Okoye and tell her how dangerous you are? Do you think that’s what Bucky would want for you?”

“No one’s telling you that you shouldn’t be pissed off at the world,” the Falcon said, and though he remained nervous around Loki’s rage, his stance was steady. “You’ve been dealt a bad hand, and sometimes that’s just how emotions go. Let’s be clear, feeling it and acting on it are two different things. We can’t afford any destabilization on the team. But we _do_ want your help.”

“Help with what?” Loki swallowed, and gestured at the lights around him. “We’ve already proven my magic will not be of any use in locating Hela. It would be far simpler for you to simply leave me behind.”

The Falcon frowned. “Do you want us to do that?”

 _No,_ Loki thought. _But it would be easier, simply_ order _me, instead of this useless arguing. I will always choose wrong._ “There would be no remaining tension for Thor,” he said. “He is your true Avenger ally. You should be concerned about his thoughts first and foremost.”

The Falcon shook his head. “That’s not how this is going to work. If you want to stay behind, that’s okay. But if you want to work with us, you have to decide right now that you think it’s worth it enough to put all of this sibling rivalry bullshit aside until we figure this out. And before you say anything - all of this is going to apply to Thor, too.”

“You are literally requesting I go after one of my siblings, with whom both Thor and I now have a rivalry,” Loki pointed out.

“Oh, like we don’t have enough smartasses on the team already. Just tell me you get this. _Please._ ”

Loki ground his jaw as his thoughts twisted themselves up and his magic strained to lash free of its confines. Protests and arguments and the desire to lash out burned strong in his chest. 

But beneath them, burrowed a plaintive thread, telling him that though others often sought to use and contain his power, it was always _his_ weakness of mind that destroyed everything in the end.

He restrained his magic, letting the lights fade and the discomfort of containment return fully. “As you wish,” he murmured, though his hands still itched for violence. “But...if Thor is to provoke me again-”

“He won’t,” The Falcon asserted.

Loki made a low noise in his throat. “Hear me. Sometimes my thoughts become nothing but a frantic scream. If I am to be of use, you must protect yourselves.”

“No,” Princess Shuri said. “This is the part where I tell you that this isn’t just about your fight with Thor.” She held up her wrist to display her Stabilizing Beads. “You wanted me to stop you on the Raft. Didn’t you?”

Loki went silent. He averted his eyes, fidgeting. 

Her voice quavered. “Do you know I still have nightmares about what I did to you?”

“We’ve discussed this ad nauseam,” Loki said quickly, as if the speed of the words could outrun the memories that followed. “I know it was your father’s will that lead to my containment.”

“But my technology,” Princess Shuri said. “What happened on the Raft was different. You were not becoming violent because you were afraid.”

Loki shut his eyes. “What would you have me say, princess?”

“Why did you try to push me into stopping you?”

Loki considered holding it in. The information had no real use, save that she wished to know it.

But his nightmares were many, and he could not decide which would be worse to choose. And he found, beneath the anger, his mind was beginning to cripple with weariness. 

“Because,” he said, resigned, “then I could tell myself I had no control in preventing this. That his death was not by my hands.”

The Falcon stepped closer to him, raising his eyebrows. “Did you start your day actively planning for Barnes to disappear? Everything I’m seeing says otherwise. You weren’t there. None of us knew what we were really getting into.”

“I should have been there,” Loki said, voice tight. “I should not have chosen to leave him.”

A heavy sigh answered him. The Falcon looked away briefly, his face creasing. “If we’re going the blame game route, I think I have the upper hand here.” He looked back to Loki. “I was with him when Hela attacked. Would have ended up with a lot more than just a limp if it hadn’t been for him. She wasn’t planning on taking prisoners, and she was trying just as hard to kill Barnes as the rest of us.”

Loki pressed his nails into his palm, but the flesh was too durable to give beneath his strength. “So you believe him dead as well.”

“I wasn’t done,” the Falcon said. “She said something about Barnes, in the middle of the big throwdown. Between all the taunts about how her power was badass and amazing and we were definitely going to lose. She said he had ‘something useful.’”

Princess Shuri sent him a sharp look. “Useful.”

The Falcon nodded. “How much you wanna bet she meant that piece of high grade Wakandan hardware he gets to use as an arm?”

Now Loki was paying attention with more interest. “Are you assuming she would take it for her own devices?”

“It doesn’t just _transfer_ ,” Princess Shuri said. “The technology is intricate and designed to match with the existing damage HYDRA caused to his body while still responding to the proper signals from his enhanced nervous system. No one else would be able to use that arm.”

“I’m really hoping Hela had that figured,” the Falcon said. 

“And what am I meant to do with this information?” Loki shook his head, his emotions quickly deflating once more. “He is _still lost._ ”

“Help,” Princess Shuri said. “Use your brain. You have a locator spell, yes, but is there anything that could enhance it? Maybe a DNA sample? What if we did the opposite, and instead of blocking vibranium energy we multiplied your absorption of it?”

Loki flinched at the suggestion. “Do you mean before or after my mind was flayed from the experience?”

She grimaced. “Okay, so not that. But the other things - is there anything you or I could do to optimize your power? She cannot hide forever.”

“So we’ve simply dropped deciding how to best allow me to work with Thor.”

“Key words are ‘work with,’” the Falcon said, “not like. There’s a difference. Like I said, no one’s telling you to stop feeling. If you ever need a few minutes, just let one of us know.”

Princess Shuri shrugged. “Hate your brother, see if I care. Just don’t ever again act like your arguments are more important than saving Bucky’s life. Do you hear me?”

Loki slumped his shoulders, turning away, focusing on a white wall and trying to allow its featureless surface bring comfort. “I fear what my emotions will turn to when the rage runs dry.”

“Loki,” she said. “I promise you, we will find him. I didn’t go through all the trouble developing the technology to fix his broken brain just for him to go and drown himself.”

Her humor fell flat for Loki, but he forced himself to nod all the same. 

“Cool,” the Falcon said. “Next step: prove you can say more than three words to your brother without trying to kill him.”

\----------

In the greater space of the lab, Thor was already standing awkwardly. Loki’s rage abruptly rose, only for him to remember Bucky’s face, his touch - all things he desperately wanted returned. He would swallow whatever fight he had left, if it meant even the smallest chance of regaining them.

He forced his posture to relax, raising his hands with his palms facing outwards. “I am done with Asgard,” he said, voice carefully even. “So do me a favor and do not take this as an extension of sentiment.”

Thor, of course, did not seem like he was pleased with those words. “Loki, I swear, I didn’t know anything about the sentence father had allowed for you.”

“Almost as if that were a recurring theme in the House of Odin.” Loki shook his head. “The less we speak from now on, Thor, the better. We’re but temporary allies with a common goal. Do not read deeper into it.”

Thor’s eyes clouded with anger. Loki could practically see him choking on the words he wanted to speak. 

Then Thor took a deep breath, and the expression faded to indifference. The change was startling. Loki remembered that look, from what felt like eons ago, when Thor had come to release him from Asgard’s dungeon. And in doing so, began him on the path to the tomb that would follow.

(“ _Betray me, and I will kill you._ ”)

Loki imagined that he could see that same promise in Thor’s gaze now, even if his brother did not speak it.

“Fine,” was all Thor said. It looked as if it physically pained him to not continue.

“Good,” the Falcon said. “Not great. But, good.”

The Captain exhaled, his gaze going to the princess. “So what now?”

“Now,” she said, “I need to call my brother. And a _lot_ of caffeine.”

Loki turned away, needing the disconnect from Thor’s image so his anger did not rise again. “Princess,” he said. “I would request to gather a few items from Bucky’s hut.”

She looked relieved. “I will take you as soon as I am done.”

\----------

They returned to the hut in the village by midday. Loki quickly ducked inside while Princess Shuri explained the current developments to the gathering residents. He went through Bucky’s things, searching for anything that would be of particular use.

He paused midway, noting the tablet sitting on his bed. Bucky would have contacted the princess just as easily, but Loki could not help himself. He checked it for messages.

There was one.

He abruptly found he couldn’t breathe. He opened the text, eyes scanning and heart sinking when he noted the time as too early to have been sent after Bucky’s fall.

Then there were the words.

_I know, I’m a dickhead. If I’m not back by the time you get this, you can cheat at as many damn board games as you want for the next six months._

Loki read the sentence over repeatedly, finally taking in air again in a shaky breath. His vision blurred and he pressed his teeth into his knuckles, lamenting that he could not tear through the skin and send his blood flowing freely.

Anwuli’s voice came a moment later. “Loki?”

He wrenched his hand from his mouth. “I am a bit busy,” he all but snapped, his heart pounding harshly in his ears. The hut was small, but it had never felt more desolate, a cavernous emptiness where Bucky should have been.

“I understand,” Anwuli responded, her tone free of judgment despite his impatience. “Take your time.”

His hands were trembling, and he had to struggle to regain his control. He placed the tablet beneath his arm, and then continued to search around Bucky’s bed, finally pulling free a brush. He quickly stowed it in his pocket dimension, straightening. He paused as he noted the painted wooden wolf at the end of the bed, the caricature created by the children of the village. Heart aching, he pocketed that as well.

Then he exited, and while the princess was clearly displeased with him for his rudeness, Anwuli’s expression remained unbothered. She took in the sight of him with some sorrow, and gestured for him to follow her. “I have something to show you.”

Loki followed her back to her hut, thinking maybe she had some item of Bucky’s that would be of use in narrowing his search. Or perhaps a meal in which she wanted him to partake - and in that case he knew he might end up being less than cordial in his refusal. But as they neared her dwelling, a familiar caw raked his ears.

Hugin stood on the ground beside her hut, making low and pleased rumbling noises as he was hand-fed by Ndidi. Some of the other children had gathered behind her, their painted faces curious. Ndidi tried to hand one of the others a piece of meat to give to the raven, but before his beak could make contact, the offering was dropped with a squeal of fright. 

“He showed up last night,” Anwuli explained over their laughter. 

“The same bird we took to Norway?” Princess Shuri appeared dubious. “There’s no way he could have flown back here that quickly.”

“He is a creature of magic,” Loki said, then glared down at the feathered body as Hugin finally took notice of him with a tilted head. “He can circle the entire Earth in the span of a day. He returns because he is opportunistic and you are an easy source of food.”

Hugin cried out again, sending the children jolting back again with jumpy delight.

Loki heard the echoes of mourning for Odin in Hugin’s answer. “So why haven’t you gone to Thor,” he asked. “He is the one taking up your old master’s mantle.”

The response came in a sharp squawk. Loki thinned his lips, repulsion filling him.

Anwuli looked at Loki in interest. “What did he tell you?”

The children had taken more notice of Loki now, and the fact that he was communicating openly with their new visitor. They spoke excitedly in Xhosa, and Ndidi reached out her hand and called a simple command to Hugin. She tensed but was unflinching when he alighted on her bare arm to eagerly received a treat for his efforts.

“He says he is not meant for Thor,” Loki answered, watching as the children took advantage of Hugin’s understanding of spoken words to call him to each of them in turn. “His brother Munin remains on Asgard, and it is he who will continue to live at the new king’s side.” 

Hugin flapped his wings, startling the children as he turned from them and hopped towards Loki, food forgotten. He stared upwards with keen eyes, throat expanding and beak open as he rumbled. 

“No,” Loki said.

Princess Shuri had crouched down for a better look now that Hugin was nearer, and was in the process of scanning his body with her Kimoyo Beads. “No, what?”

“He wants me to believe that Odin instructed him that he belongs here in Wakanda. To live the rest of his service under my command.” Loki stared down, resisting the urge to step away. “And what happens if I act against the wishes of Asgard?”

Hugin cawed.

Loki gave a bitter smile. “At least you are truthful.”

Princess Shuri rolled her eyes. “Feel free at any time you would like to assume that the rest of us do not understand what this bird is telling you.”

Loki folded his arms, signalling his refusal further by declining to offer Hugin a perch. “He said that he’ll report anything particularly obvious as treason to Thor.” 

Princess Shuri lowered her beads and sent him a look of incredulity. “He’s a _spy_?”

Loki nodded. “He was raised from birth with his brother to be Odin’s eyes and ears, to report the goings on among the realms.” 

“And now he is yours,” Anwuli said, affection in her gaze. “I could tell, the very first time I saw him. The way he looks at you. He is very intelligent.”

“Not enough to notice when he is not wanted,” Loki said, but against his wishes, the urge for outright rejection of Hugin’s help was beginning to change. 

A servant of Odin until the end, even now the raven would uphold the Allfather’s final orders. But he was not complicated. He would have no hidden motives for Loki to fear.

“Princess,” Loki said. “I have...a proposition.”

She was still examining her scans. “You want to use the bird that can fly around the world in one day as a scout.”

Loki nodded, pleased that she seemed agreeable to the idea. “We will need to devise a system so that a signal will reach us as soon as he finds anything.”

Shuri grinned as she moved to her feet. “I am already brainstorming.”

\----------

Someone was being quite loud nearby.

Hela drew herself from her meditative state. That damned device was still weakening her flesh, but the walls had again been reinforced with her power. She’d been careful, ensuring most of the systems in the walls that formed air remained intact, just in case she was forced to flee with it.

The sacrifice of the rest of the vessel had been a necessary evil. She’d felt the second prince as soon as he’d arrived - the one with the energy that lashed with the sharpness of metal. The same energy that the metal-armed soldier had used to attack her. 

She could feel that power, even miles beneath her brother. It had reached out in violent waves, in shocking amounts of energy as it searched for signs of life. He'd been a tenacious hunter, continuing his efforts for long minutes, and then repeatedly again later. She’d been aware quite clearly of the fact that if he had found her, there would be no question as to her defeat. 

As frustrating and humiliating as it was, she had gone into such a fight knowing there was a heavy possibility she would need to flee it. She would not risk recapture, or the indignity of another imprisonment. She knew when to give ground to gain it.

And give she had. The portion of power lost at her separation from the main prison was not insubstantial. There would be no lives to refill it, not down here. And not soon, with what she had planned.

When she moved, she seethed at her body's petty complaints, growling out a sound she could not help as the pain coursed through her. She knew that the key to her full freedom was within her reach. This weakness was only temporary.

Shouts continued to echo towards her. They must have originated from one of the floors above. She could feel the lives there pulsing. Her allies were agitated. There was the sound of gunfire.

Curious, and growing steadier, she made her way up the stairwells and towards the ruckus. 

She was met by a small gathering of the humans she had released, and thought with some pity that there were definitely less of them now than there had been. They had grown quiet, now, but their weapons were still raised. 

"Jack," she said, and the man turned to her, his dark eyes full of rage. She was glad his life had not been the one to expire. "What are you doing?"

He jerked his head in indication. "Soldier's got himself barricaded up in a room."

She sighed. Of course. “Didn’t I tell you? I did have a feeling he’d still be alive.”

Jack nodded, his skin glistening with nervous sweat. "We shot him a few times, but the fucking new arm - we couldn't hit anything vital, and bullets are like love taps. It'll slow him down, but it could be a long wait."

She pouted, but wasn't surprised at their failure. “And he wasn’t at all receptive to any of your explanations?”

Jack hesitated, looking caught out. Hela narrowed her eyes, and she felt her men’s fear soak the air.

One of the others spoke up. “Rollins flinched, ma’am. Fired off the first shot and sent the soldier into the red zone.”

Jack sent him a furious look - but like a good soldier, he didn’t deny his mistake. 

“Jack,” Hela said in exaggerated disappointment, patting the human’s shoulder and watching the fear in his eyes spike. “I suppose it’s understandable. You are all so fragile, after all. For now, anyway.” She gazed around them, her hand slipping back down to her side. "Where are the others?"

Some of the tension visibly left Jack and, really, as if she was the type to punish her loyal follower for such a small transgression? That was _Odin’s_ style. When Hela disliked someone, they usually just ended up dead.

Though, to be fair, liking them didn’t entirely rule out killing them.

Jack dutifully answered her, if somewhat guiltily. "We're down three men. He made a grid of traps to protect himself.”

More indications this was going to be harder than it needed to be. _Damn._ "I'll need to retrieve their bodies,” she said.

Jack scowled. “What are you going to do with them?”

“Nothing, yet.” She waved him off. “Withdraw. Find what resources you can to keep the rest of yourselves alive. We’ll rise back up once I’m sure there will not be any more interruptions.”

When she stepped towards the cobbled barricade on the wall, Jack looked startled. “You’re not seriously planning on going in there?”

“You’ve seen what I can do, Jack,” Hela remarked. “He’s not going to be a problem for much longer. I stabbed him quite thoroughly.”

“At least let me give you back up.” Jack’s gaze moved to the barricade. “He can survive a lot more than you’d think.”

She laughed, but inwardly preened at his concern. “So can I. Entire armies, in fact. Specialized arm or not, one injured mortal will not be the exception.” 

She would have enjoyed the added devotion in the room, but now both of them had made what seemed quite serious attempts on the metal-armed man’s life, and Jack was a bit...lacking, in his charm. 

Finally, Jack gave her a reluctant nod and lowered his firearm. His eyes went back to the barricade with no small amount of anxiety.

Hela smiled, and sauntered towards it. She _could_ just tear the wall down with her blades, but that would be a needless exertion. And just now, she was not seeking to intentionally intimidate.

She reached out with her hand, finding a ready handhold to grip into. When she pulled, it bent beneath her strength with a screech before falling away with a deafening slam of metal.

 _Oh well,_ she thought with some pleasure. She supposed some intimidation really couldn’t be helped. 

It was all simply part of being a goddess.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, still dealing with major health issues, so the writing is staying slow for now. But here's another chapter.

The floor before Hela was alight with streams of arcing electricity. Stolen weapons were layered in a careful pattern over the floor, triggered at a constant discharge. They were among those that had been wielded by the vessel’s guards, meant to assist in controlling their prisoners. There were dozens of them, all feeding into each other. 

And that wasn’t all. Her current target had managed to cobble together some sort of shielding structure, using the clear energy fields that her captors had attempted to use to stave off her attacks, not knowing she could send out her blades from any angle around them.

That was a misconception obviously no longer present in this one. The soldier had somehow crushed the shields together to form a cube around himself. The only part of his body left exposed was the metal arm, the hand of which was pressed flush to the floor and rapidly gathering the electric current.

He was half-dead already, skin pale and clammy, his eyes glazed with pain as he struggled to stay upright and continue breathing. But the stare he sent her behind a curtain of hair was of a quiet viciousness, his body crouched, coiled and ready despite the blood that painted his side where her blade had pierced him - was _still_ piercing him, she realized. He had broken the end off, but it was still embedded in his body, and preventing him from bleeding out quickly even as it had to have pained him. 

He would not go easily.

Survival instinct of the highest kind.

She knew it. Even if it infuriated her as yet more proof of her current weakness, she could almost respect it. 

But it wouldn’t help him. 

"Hmm. This is - I'm not sure impressive is the word I would use. But we should talk. Well, _I_ should talk. You should stay nestled in your burrow and continue to slowly die while you listen." She stepped to the side, to a freshly fallen body, resting just outside the lines of electricity. It was too close to danger for Jack and the others to risk pulling it free. 

It was also, she realized with some surprise, still breathing.

Hela turned her gaze around the room - the two other missing men were also present. Dead, she’d assumed. But they were only incapacitated.

“You left them alive,” she noted, narrowing her eyes at him. “You could have easily killed them.”

There was no response. Not even a flicker on his face. She could see him wavering where he crouched but he simply continued to stare at her like the cornered animal he was.

He’d been slow about going straight for the kill with her when they’d fought. It had enabled her this victory, but now she was wondering if this wasn’t indicative of more trouble that was about to come her way. 

She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m going to be kind enough to list your options from this point on, just so there’s no misunderstandings.”

He tracked her movements with unblinking intensity. Evidently, he didn’t feel the need to respond.

Not the most interactive of audiences, but at least he was listening.

She raised one hand to indicate the room. “As you no doubt have noticed, we are no longer connected to the main prison vessel.” She smirked, glancing upwards, and was gratified when he mirrored the movement. “I detached the lower floors and sent us down deep. It was quite easy considering you nearly did half the work in destroying the connections. So if you were expecting to be able to escape in your condition, you would be quite wrong.”

He took another stuttered intake of breath, agony painting his features, and - had she _really_ been so sloppy that she’d missed his diaphragm entirely? 

No matter.

“Jack tells me you were once an ally of his,” she said. “A capable warrior who studiously carried out death upon command. We had a similar role in the royalty among Asgard - we called them Executioners.” A larger smile pulled at her lips, and she tilted her chin up. “Since I am Asgard’s rightful queen, I will be needing someone to fill such a space. You’re...quite delicate, for what I’m looking for. But you’re skilled. And, more importantly, I saw that you have the ability to cause pain for Odin’s second son.”

Now there was a response - a slight twitch, perhaps what would have been a scowl if his body was still capable of properly following his commands. “What?”

There was no strength in his voice. She hoped he had the grace of timing to not die before her speech was done.

She invoked some of her charm, her voice encouraging. “Here’s my offer. Under my rule, you’d be able to quench your violent thirsts without end. You’ve seen my work. Asgard’s power is unrivaled. Aid me in fulfilling its true destiny.”

He was shivering, his eyes struggling to focus. Yet he kept his position, still withstanding the pain overtaking him.

His response was a single, simple word. “No.”

Well, that was irritating. When they’d fought she’d seen the fire in his eyes, the way he’d been driven in fury. It was only when she’d been down that he’d slowed in doubt.

Maybe trust was the problem. Those few that managed to survive her attacks did tend to be touchy in the aftermath. “Before you decline, I’ll move on to your next option. Which is to stay there without help and finish dying in agony, inch by inch, while your body struggles to keep a hold on its waning life.” 

He was struggling to tense up, a harsh noise grating out through his teeth. 

She was almost a hundred percent certain now that he had no more attacks that could match her. His last blast of energy had been wild and uncontrolled, mighty as a beam from the Bifrost.

She tilted her head, wondering what his aim was in resisting. “You know, we found that they had a place for you, in this prison you attempted to avenge. A waiting cell in the deepest of pits, to hold you locked away from sunlight and fresh air. Your potential forever squandered as your life wasted away in unending tedium of captivity. Jack told me the wardens questioned him for possibilities of your whereabouts while they had been hunting you. You should be thanking me for killing them.”

Metal fingers curled against the ground in something like readiness. She frowned - he wasn’t seriously thinking of attacking her now? She was quite certain that any movement he attempted from this point would be his last conscious one.

“Well?” She placed her hands on her hips, quickly growing bored with this. “Of course, I can always kill you quickly if you find the fear and pain of a slow death is a bit much.”

Hela certainly had a preference in which choice he made, but every end to this situation would still lead to her benefit. It was clear he still saw her and the others as his enemy. But all of them would have been kept there, forgotten, in the cells in the midst of the ocean if Midgard could help it. 

And she was becoming used to the disappointment of people not seeing her way, even when it was so clearly the best and most logical choice. She’d already proven herself unstoppable. What hope would anyone have of challenging her once she reached Asgard?

It didn’t seem like she was going to receive a verbal answer. Those piercing eyes continued to watch her carefully, the hand against the ground braced straight to keep the failing body upright.

Well. Slow death it was. 

She rolled her eyes and turned her back, unable to help the snarl that curled her lip. She enjoyed showing off her power, but she loathed needless work. 

Jack was waiting outside, standing at the ready with his weapon. 

She waved her hand to seal the wall behind her, unable to help the disappointment coating her voice. “He really doesn’t say much, does he?”

Jack scowled, his gun still aimed at the wall despite its obstruction. “What happened?”

“He’d prefer to die, apparently,” she said. “Though, technically, that was really his only option.”

The tension in her companion did not diminish. “So what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to let him,” Hela answered. She sighed, checking the hooks in her side, cursing their incessant dampening effect on her power. “I need to work to further reinforce my magic. Stay out of that room. I don’t want to risk losing any more of you.” 

Jack didn’t look entirely comfortable with that idea - but she was beginning to think that was just the way he operated. He nodded all the same. “Understood.”

“When I feel him end, I’ll call upon you and your men to remove his corpse,” she said. “I would very much like a closer look at that arm.”

\----------

“So our plan is essentially a search and rescue raven,” the Falcon said, staring at the projected plans the Avengers were gathered around.

Loki had thrown himself fully into their work in a desperate bid to ignore the gnarled tangles of hope and despair that writhed in his mind. Between him and the princess, it had taken no time at all to formulate a device that would bolster Hugin’s use in their plan. A small ring had already been drawn forth from a sand table and now rested on a small display tray.

The Falcon’s words of doubt were of little concern. If Hela yet remained on Earth, Hugin would find her.

And then, one way or another, he would know Bucky’s fate.

“Loki,” the Captain said, drawing his attention back with a start. “Sorry. I was just wondering if he was supposed to be doing that.” 

Loki glanced at Hugin, who was grabbing various objects and placing them upon the sand table to watch as they sank beneath the grains into automatic storage. 

He roughly cleared his throat, attempting to stuff down the bubbling panic encroaching on his thoughts. He aimed his response at the Falcon. “Hugin was reared from a young age to seek and retrieve knowledge from across the Nine Realms. He knows who he will be looking for. He is skilled at avoiding death.” His last words were pointed. “And a single raven will draw less attention than a metal drone.”

“Not saying I’m not on board with it.” The Falcon shrugged. “But I know what I’d pick in a contest between 360 degree X-Ray vision, tracking software, on-board machine guns and...that.” He gestured towards where Hugin had begun vigorously shoveling the sand around with his beak in an attempt to find the missing spheres. 

Princess Shuri looked up sharply at the mess being made, then subsided with a long-suffering expression. “This is what happens when I invite people outside of the Design Group into my lab.” 

“Or birds,” the Widow corrected. 

“No, Princess Shuri is right,” Thor said, standing near the plans to reforge Gungnir. “Hugin is acting under Loki’s command.”

Caught out, Loki shrugged, placing great effort in keeping his expression blank and his voice even. “Simply a demonstration. He is discovering how the device works. He can perform varied interactions to suit a given situation.”

The Captain was not as outright in his doubt, but he did appear somewhat nonplussed. “He looks like he’s playing.”

“Yes,” Loki said. “The two behaviors are not mutually exclusive. Technological devices will not be able to locate much, and neither will mystical searches. But if there is plain sight to be found…”

“Then we’ll know where Hela is,” the Captain said, his face relaxing as he was convinced. “And this ring will be able to get a signal out?”

Princess Shuri placed her wrist over the panel, commanding the image to hover over her beads. She split the ring into its virtual components, highlighting a particular shape in red. “At the forefront of our concern was that Hela would have just found somewhere else that she could block up attempts at detection. I miniaturized the technology I created for energy absorption in Bucky’s arm. Loki will carefully charge it. Then, if Hugin becomes trapped for any reason, the broadcast of energy will give us a clear arrow pointing to his location.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” the Falcon said. “Outside of any defenses she has maybe a normal bird’s a good idea. But if I saw one of my dad’s favorite pets show up out of nowhere I wouldn’t just ignore it.”

“She would not know them,” Thor said. “Hugin and Munin are ancient. It was said that my father acquired them shortly after my birth so he could better manage the kingdom and attend fatherhood at the same time.”

“He should have kept to the ravens,” Loki muttered absently. “They seem to be the only things he raised that did not end up disappointing him.” When the glares were sent his way, he waved his hand. “Apologies. Habit.”

The Captain lingered his gaze between Thor and Loki, his lips drawn down. When he seemed satisfied that the moment of tension had passed, he turned back to the princess. “How long will it take?”

“Not long,” she answered. “I have already drawn up the plans, all we need to do is make sure Hugin understands how to correctly and safely employ the technology.”

Hugin cawed in response, flapping his wings and dislodging yet more sand.

“Looks promising,” the Falcon said dryly. “Still think something with scanning would be ideal.”

“You convinced me to help,” Loki reminded, his temper finally fraying beneath his stress. “What would scans matter when all I need is a given location to teleport to so I can tear her apart?”

“Because that is how teams work,” Thor said, glowering at Loki before turning his gaze away.

The Widow spoke up before Loki could respond. “We don’t have enough information on Hela. There might be other things she can do that we wouldn’t expect.”

Loki delivered her a flat look. “Killing her as soon as possible will prevent the unexpected.”

Princess Shuri put both of her hands up in a signal for them to quiet. “If everyone could stop talking around the scientific genius - there is already scanning technology programmed into the ring’s development, for all that it will be worth.” She glanced at the Falcon. “And before you ask, no, machine guns will not give us any advantages.” 

The Widow gave Loki a considering look. “That energy Barnes had stored in his arm,” she said. “It was...well, I guess the word would be spectacular.” 

Loki curled his hands. “What is your point?”

“It’s a good plan,” she said. “But there seems to be an all-or-nothing characteristic to your magic.”

“It’s the vibranium,” Princess Shuri said. She immediately glanced anxiously towards Loki. “Is it all right if I…?”

“Perhaps if it comes from you it will prevent further stalling,” Loki said, rounding the panel and using his turned back to give himself room to breathe from their attention. 

The princess began explaining. “Once Loki consumed the herb, the vibranium became a part of his cells. With the Black Panther, the warrior’s human biology is particularly suited for this enhancement, and most candidates train quite hard to have knowledge of its uses and side effects. My father had T’Challa well into practice years before he would ever pass on the mantle. Loki is not the same. He is a different species, and he naturally possesses the ability to project and pull in power from both his body and environment. The vibranium now feeds into this, often to overload. This compounds the mental stress his being cut off from most sensory information for years.”

“And Loki received no such training for what the plant would do to him,” Thor said.

Loki placed his hand into his pocket as they spoke, rubbing the metal of his earbuds between the pads of his fingers, trying to resist the urge to apply them and block them out entirely.

“Bucky has been helping him train over the last several months,” Princess Shuri said, and Loki shut his eyes at the sudden jolt of emotion. “And I have a room prepared that will block the flow of energy from what is around us to help in his concentration. But his use of the herb is unprecedented. Before this all happened, we were just beginning tests to better understand his energy’s interactions to the vibranium and manage his control over it.”

Loki finally spoke up. “While that is all correct, I believe Agent Romanoff was specifically questioning my ability to present energy to such a small device without causing greater catastrophe.”

“The stress pulls it out of you,” he heard the Widow say in confirmation. “Whenever you don’t have it locked down. The more upset you are, the more you use it.”

“He can do it,” Princess Shuri said. He felt her approach him, and could not help his rising tension. Her touch against his arm felt like a rake of fire against his oversensitized skin, but her voice was carefully keyed low. “This will be no larger than the sand sphere you stole, and you managed that without setting off any of my sensors.” 

Though privately Loki thought the princess’s faith a bit too hopeful, he all the same sought out the ball of hatred in his mind he had been developing for Hela. Worrying at it helped to sharpen his focus. 

He finally managed to force himself to face the group once more. “I do have substantial motivation,” he said.

“And you have me on your side,” Princess Shuri said, a brief smile lighting her face. “I would never place my efforts in a subpar project.” She turned her gaze more directly to her beads, then sighed in exasperation. “Give me a moment, my brother is calling.” 

As the princess stepped away from them to take her communications in private, the Captain looked to Thor. “No chance of your gatekeeper finding her?”

Loki snorted softly, but managed this time to hold back his snide remark.

Thor darted him a disgruntled look. “As Loki is no doubt thinking, Heimdall’s sights often have limits when magic is involved in those attempting to stay hidden.”

“What about Hela’s history?” The Widow asked. She looked between Loki and Thor, indicating the question was for them both. “Does he know anything about her from before?”

Thor hesitated. “Heimdall only said that Odin did not require a gatekeeper for Asgard before his appointment.”

Loki hummed. “Which might be since, as our dear sister told me, not a single planet could have hoped to challenge Asgard’s might while she commanded its armies alongside Odin.”

“Or they invited challenge,” Thor said. He looked troubled. “Father said Hela’s power came from Asgard, and yet she managed to begin to build a well of it here on Earth.”

“Because she killed a lot of people,” the Widow said.

Thor sighed, his expression growing darker.

“Oh, this just continues to get better,” Loki said. “So there is every chance that Asgard is simply a mass grave of lives lost that feeds into Hela’s power.”

“She will not have the chance to reach it,” Thor said.

“No,” Loki said. “But it does paint a very vivid image of what Odin was up to in his younger days. Before his benevolence and duty as protector got the better of him.”

“I trust the information pleases you,” Thor said bitterly.

Loki felt an odd edge of humor, or perhaps it was simply hysteria at the thought of the laughter that the Norns were having at his expense. “If it consoles you, Thor, just remember that father exacted more than thorough vengeance upon me.”

“It doesn’t,” Thor hissed, and took a step forward before visibly restraining himself. “Loki, stop this. You think I enjoyed hearing what happened to you? That our father lied to us our entire lives?”

“Oh, it’s _us_ , now, is it,” Loki said, only just holding back the snarl. “Tell me, is there even a small amount of disappointment for Odin in your mind for the very specific lies that he raised me under?”

“Guys,” the Falcon said, tone warning. “We just talked about this. Don’t escalate.”

“We are fine,” Thor snapped.

“We’re really not,” Loki said, bristling. 

“We’re _really_ not,” Princess Shuri said, rushing back into the room. “My brother wasn’t just calling, he is actually here.”

The Widow looked taken aback. She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t seem happy about that.”

The princess swallowed, looking towards Loki. She gestured frantically at him. “Come with me. I have to discuss something with you.”

Loki followed her, taking uneasy note of the crease to her brow that harbored a deeper anxiety. 

As soon as they were closed off from the others, she turned and stared up at Loki. “I tried to explain it.”

“Explain what?” Loki asked, but even as he did, he sensed it. There were several approaching bodies navigating the pathways in the upper regions of the lab. The king had not come alone.

His dread began to build.

Princess Shuri folded her hands. “Earlier I told T’Challa and the Council what happened to Bucky. They agreed to allow us to work on a solution of finding them, but now - conveniently timed, when your work on the project is nearly finished - the Council has doubts about your involvement on the Raft.”

Loki felt every line of his body freeze. He suddenly felt as if the walls were coming closer. “And what does that mean?”

She spread her hands in a jerk of agitation. “They shouldn’t - you did not _do_ anything. They will realize that. I will make _sure_ they realize that.”

The pieces were slow to fall into place. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so well used to such turns of events by now. “They believe the Wolf’s disappearance was my doing.” 

“Nothing will happen,” the princess insisted. “You have been a model citizen.”

“Except for my initial infiltration and theft of one of your sacred plants and the killing of your people when they attempted to stop me.” Loki closed his eyes, feeling a part of himself, already broken, begin to deaden. “I told you what freedom would cost me.”

Princess Shuri’s voice raised enough with her emotions to draw forth a wince. “But you weren’t free; I was there. I had control over your implants and your radius.” 

“You are still attempting to rationalize your way through this,” Loki said, and when he opened his eyes again the room looked far too bright. “You let me out of your sight to act on my own. It was freedom enough.”

The door came open, and there stood the king, backed by several of his soldiers. His gaze came to rest not on Loki, but the princess. “Please, Shuri. Save your arguments for the Council.”

The princess gaped. “My arguments? This is terrible timing. The project needs to be completed as soon as possible. Bucky is out there-”

“I understand,” the king said. “But you said you only needed one more input from Loki for the project. You may take it from him after his questioning.”

One of the kingsguard approached, his face stony. With a jolt Loki noted the shackles that rested in his hands, their interior lined with lights. 

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back,” the man ordered.

The Avengers were watching Loki, gathered behind Wakanda’s soldiers. He fought to not allow his breathing to hitch, to not cower back against the wall. He could not prevent the hunch that came to his shoulders, nor his heart from attempting to lurch against bone.

“I am sorry to do this,” the king said, and he did appear genuinely distressed. “Please, follow the orders of my men. I promise you will come to no harm if you cooperate.”

 _I have heard that before,_ Loki thought with a shudder he could not contain. 

But what could he do? Any words he might have had to convince them were being swallowed up in terror at this turn of events. He was trapped on a slope, its rocks beginning to crumble beneath his feet. He knew what would await him at the bottom.

With no viable recourse, he obediently faced away and clasped one hand in the other at the small of his back. He could not help the flinch when he felt cool metal and then a rough push against his magic alongside the restraints from the implants as the shackles were locked in place, nor the tendril of relief when he noted that their design did not burn into his flesh.

The kingsguard took up stations around him and directed him to turn back.

Loki’s throat was becoming so increasingly tight that he could hardly swallow through it. “What will you do?”

The king’s voice was calm, a stark contrast to Loki’s wildly whirling thoughts. “You will be taken to the Citadel for questioning concerning these most recent events so that the Council may assess the current danger of your presence.”

 _Or so they may come up with whatever excuses they might favor as to why my imprisonment should be yet further restricted,_ Loki thought. His mind roiled with denial, but even if he had enough spirit in him to attempt to fight free, he knew he would fail. And that would just encourage them to shut him in a hole all the more quickly.

“You cannot take him,” Thor said with surprising vehemence. “He must stay here to help us defeat our sister.”

The Widow delivered Thor a severe look, the back of her hand swatting his arm. She shook her head firmly when he gazed at her. 

The Captain stepped forward, speaking in a much more gracious manner. “There’s no way we can convince you to postpone it?”

The king turned, voice raised to address them all. “This enemy that has been set loose concerns the entire world. But the Council will need to agree on what Wakanda’s next course of action should be. And unfortunately, Loki’s previous crimes against our land have made his motivations suspect to some of the members.”

Loki tightened the lines of his body, standing straighter. He was unable to stay quiet, even though his mind insisted that if they wanted to crush him, there would be no reasoning he could formulate to dissuade them. “Your Majesty, you know I would not be so foolish as to risk defying your nation.”

The king sighed, glancing at Loki with something like regret. “For the record, I think I believe you,” he said. “And I trust my sister’s judgment. But I cannot just ignore the concerns of my people. This is not a secret we should hold.”

The Falcon was frowning deeply, his arms folded. “So how long’s this whole thing going to take?”

“Until it is decided that Loki still poses no threat. And after he has submitted a reasonable defense as to why it was not him that caused the White Wolf’s disappearance.”

Of course.

Loki dipped his head, and tried to make the blur starting in his eyes less obvious to the onlookers. There would be no possible proof to his innocence but his word.

“That’s not what happened,” the Captain said. “Bucky fell before Loki was even on board.”

“Can you say that for certain, Captain Rogers? The only report of note was that both Hela and the White Wolf disappeared, seemingly into thin air, after Loki’s arrival.” 

The princess’s voice was growing a plaintive edge. “We would not have even _gone_ if I did not tell him to take us.”

“I already told you that you may come with us to add to his defense,” the king said. He raised his hands. “As I said, I am on your side. But you can imagine how this situation appears when there are no witnesses to the events that unfolded.”

The princess looked at Loki. She was undoubtedly remembering the same words coming from him just moments before. 

Still so young - there were some things even her brilliant mind could not science away. Loki’s crimes among them. 

The Widow stepped over to the king. “Would it help if we were to give our own testimonies?”

Loki felt a sharp burst of surprise. He would have thought the presentation of this particular doubt would have had the other Avengers reconsidering his involvement in their plans. 

The king seemed to genuinely consider it. “For some members, perhaps. But many are still very untrusting of outsiders, and for them, your words might do more harm than good. Now, we must go. Please, continue your project, and let me know if there is any way I can help.”

Thor’s voice carried his growing anger. “You can help by allowing Loki to stay and help us finish this.”

“Thor,” Loki interjected, clasping his hands more tightly to prevent their trembling. “Leave it. See to Hugin. The princess will need to train him in how the device works before it is loaded. You must stay here to ensure our sister’s defeat.”

Other than the initial shackling, no one touched him. That was good, because even their simple proximity was sending screeching warnings down Loki’s spine, lighting his nerve endings.

Somehow he managed to follow his escort onto one of their airships. He took a seat when ordered, his eyes lowered as he did his utmost to project a subdued air.

He remembered the Council, though only in flashes. Last he had seen them, he had been a cowering wreck unable to leave the perimeter of his prison. They had offered him allowances then, satisfied with his weakness and the breaks in his mind, and the strength of the warrior they had placed to oversee his kinder sentence. He wondered how badly they now regretted that choice.

Perhaps he had been wrong, thinking it would be merely Asgard that would have a hand in destroying him next.

_\--------------_

Bucky couldn’t breathe.

The walls were closed around him, trapping him cramped between unyielding surfaces of metal. Loki was panicking in front of him, struggling uselessly against restraints he couldn’t break free of as nanites began to crawl over him and solidify.

Odin’s voice rang in Bucky’s ears. “Did you really believe your defiance of Asgard would avail you?”

The first of the nanites slid from Loki and gripped into him. He tried to claw them off but they slid over his fingers as soon as he touched them, locking up his hand and crawling further down his wrist.

Loki had already stopped fighting, his shallow breaths brushing over Bucky’s shoulder as he slumped in defeat. “I am sorry, Wolf.”

Bucky woke with a shout, raising his numb hand and scraping his nails repeatedly over the skin of his face, only stopping once he was sure there was no vibranium clinging to his mouth and nose. He sucked in air in noisy gasps, heart pounding like the bolt thrust for a .57 caliber round. He jerked his gaze wildly to his surroundings.

He was still in the box he’d made for himself, which was reassuring even as the realization sent another flare of claustrophobia seizing his lungs. His other defenses were still in place, for all the good they would do him, stuck in a pressurized hellbox full of swords at the bottom of the sea. 

Every wall to the room was closed. He was alone. 

His Kimoyo and Stabilizing Beads were both gone.

The last thing he remembered, he’d been starting to get too tired to stay awake, feverishly hoping that Loki was still safe in Shuri’s lab, that Steve and the others had made it out okay.

If that had even been real, and not just a delirious dream. 

Because he was pretty sure the last time he’d been awake he’d been choking on the agony of extensive organ trauma from a sword splitting his side, and now he couldn’t feel so much as a splinter.

He jolted at the realization, looking down and pressing his fingers into the bloodstained hole in his vest. There was only unbroken skin where his wound had been. 

“What the hell?”

He looked around the room carefully - the bodies of the STRIKE members he’d taken out had been removed. But the shock batons that had downed them were still resting on the ground, and still live.

And he was still trapped. Still stranded, without any of Loki’s energy remaining in his prosthetic. Which, he realized with a start, there was a fucking _note_ taped to. He ripped the paper off, staring at the scribbled words.

_if she wanted you dead, you’d be dead_

_she’s not letting any of us back up until you’re dealt with_

_just fucking cooperate_

He crumpled the paper, ignoring the prickles running up and down his spine. They’d done something to him while he was unconscious. More than just somehow closing up that wound. But afterwards they’d just left him where he was, instead of dragging him off to a cell, or just shooting him and throwing his body out into the depths. 

How long had he been out? A day? More? The disorientation was unpleasantly familiar, and he saw a cryotube out of the corner of his eye that disappeared the moment he checked. 

STRIKE was here, but not HYDRA. HYDRA was done. The triggers were gone. They couldn’t touch him anymore.

Still, he started to get the feeling there was a game here he wasn’t aware of. 

He didn’t like it, feeling like he was a mouse in the paws of a sadistic cat. And he wasn’t sure what the hell he could do to get himself out alive anymore now than he had when he’d been injured.

Loki probably already knew he was missing at this point. Was probably out of his mind, all because Bucky just had to run off and try to take on someone who was as it turned out, at least metaphorically, a lot bigger than himself.

And then after talking to Loki about freezing up, he’d _fucking done it himself._

Hypocrite was too gentle a word. Idiot was maybe a bit more in the ballpark.

Just “sorry” definitely wasn’t going to cut it at this point. He only hoped he had the chance to say it at all. Maybe Loki would show up soon in a blaze of green and righteous fury.

Maybe something else had happened that meant he wouldn’t.

 _Not helpful, Barnes,_ he told himself. _Keep your mind on what you need to do now. Which is get the hell off of this trap without getting stabbed or shot or drowned beneath miles of seawater. Or bleeding into your lungs as they collapse completely from the pressure of being on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean._

So, he needed a way to get out without getting attacked. And he needed to somehow protect himself from the depths. But he had a feeling none of the atmospheric diving suits available on the planet would be enough for something this deep.

He didn’t have long to consider his depressing list of non-options before the wall screeching had him jerking into alertness, the plates of his prosthetic arm shifting. He took a careful breath as the wall receded into a door-shaped gap.

Like always, he felt her before he saw her - his hackles rising and screaming danger and death. His skin felt leeched of all warmth as soon as she stepped into the room, the pull of her coldness stronger than ever.

She’d fixed the tears in her armor and cleaned it of blood. She wasn’t favoring her side anymore, but he could still see the slight outline of Shuri’s tech hooked into her body. 

There was a new glow to her skin, a steady sureness to her posture. Bucky was sure the edges of the room were darkening with every step she took into it.

She came to a stop just inside of the shock batons. A quiver spasmed up her leg, but she didn’t go down, her stance steady against the running current.

 _Fuck,_ he thought.

“Well,” she said, sounding satisfied. “You’re back.” 

She slid her foot forward and with a kick sent the nearest baton rolling across the floor at high speed, the force slamming it into several others and clearing a path at her feet. Bucky exhaled roughly, thoroughly aware of just how screwed he was.

Hela met his eyes with a smirk. “I think it’s time for us to have another conversation.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus, folks, it was wholly unintended. Health got in the way big time. I think I finally found something that is going to help me feel better, though. 
> 
> Might still be a bit slow on updates from here, but we'll see.

Loki was no stranger to fear. After all, he had spent most of the last decade of his life experiencing it in several of its bright and varied forms. From the shimmer of dread that came before Thor’s coronation, to the sharper terrors that formed when he’d learned his entire life had been a lie. 

The shades of it had changed. They’d stretched and strengthened, folding layers upon layers before cementing so fully over him that it ceased being a named emotion and became what _was._ No longer an ever-present companion, but the sum of his existence. A raging maelstrom always churning beneath the surface, waiting for his hard-fought shell to crack open so it could rush into the world once again.

He’d almost been able to fool himself, for a time. Tell himself that things were easier to manage with Bucky’s steady presence, the Wolf ready to stand against Loki’s fears even when they frequently crumbled what masks he managed. 

Now he had not even that illusion. Loki was so far down at the bottom of the pit of his own mind that he did not think he would notice if he began tearing his flesh from bone.

He couldn’t, of course. Even with the restraints containing his magic, his skin was far too durable to be damaged by anything not specially made for the task.

The Wakandans would have such items. Perhaps they even had several hundreds by now. The princess had never spoken of it, but Loki knew the failure to apply the sciences she had devised to carve through his cells into something more defensive to be used against him would be a gross oversight.

It wasn’t an unwelcome thought. An end would be vastly preferable to the alternative.

For now, the Wakandans seemed content to draw out his misery. He’d been placed in a cell, richly furnished with tapestries and bedding depicting the symbols of the reigning Tribe. He wondered distantly if all of their holding cells for prisoners shared such lavish accommodations. He felt the statements of power in the themed decorations and in the allowance of furniture that could potentially be used as a weapon. 

He was grateful for them, all the same. A bare cell of open space would have been worse.

His shackles remained on his wrists, though they had been unjoined to allow him freedom of movement. There were guards posted beyond the door. The energy barrier that barred it and the vibranium walls surrounding him would not have held against his strength if he wanted to break them apart to attempt an escape. 

As if he was mad enough to consider that for more than a moment. 

The Wakandans were not ready to begin questioning him yet. Or perhaps they wanted to see how he reacted to the development when alone. 

He was surprised that he had not given in to his body’s urge to scream until every atom of air left his body and he suffocated beneath the weight of his own terror and grief.

He had little memory of the Citadel, but he knew he had been here before. There were flashes, in between sense memories of horrific pain. Maybe they had only been visions. People attempting to speak to him and receive responses when his mind was being eaten away by the rot overtaking his body. 

He remembered the Wolf and his new limb, a beacon of vibranium reaching to cradle him. That one, at least, he knew was real. He had asked about it one night, when his mind had been slipping in and out of the certainty of his own existence. He remembered the tight lines of Bucky’s face as he recounted the event, gaze set in the middle distance.

His heart ached at the thought, strongly enough to shoulder aside the tide of burning acid in his belly. The chance for revenge had been taken from his hands, and his mind chased itself in ruthless circles of howling fury and guilt. 

He didn’t know how long he stood in the center of the room before the openness of it drove him towards the cot. He forced himself to sit upon it instead of crawl beneath like his raging instincts demanded. The sculpture of a panther on the wall watched his movements in an unblinking snarl as he pressed his back into a corner. 

He stared down at his hands, wondering if he should consider attempting to convince his jailors that death was a suitable punishment for his crimes. 

The energy barrier to the door opened not long after. 

Loki immediately stood at attention, head down, a sick feeling curdling in his gut. 

The general of the king’s most prized fighters entered, spear in hand and backed by a pair of her warriors. Her expression was foreboding. 

She’d thought Loki better dead from the first interaction. It did not appear that her opinion was much changed.

“Look at me,” she ordered.

Loki exhaled through his nose and obeyed, lifting his chin as he carefully gazed down at her. He kept his hands clasped together at his front, hiding the tremble as his mind considered the worst. 

“You will show absolute respect to the Council,” she said, voice firm. “Do not speak unless spoken to. Answer every question truthfully, and in as few words as possible.”

She’d only come to retrieve him. He was mildly surprised, though that feeling was buried beneath further worry. Usually, she delegated tasks to the women that followed her. If the reason she was here was that he was yet considered that much of a threat… 

His throat tightened at the thought. He had been _more_ than beaten, and his fate was utterly in their power to decide. “I would not dream of acting otherwise.”

She stared at him for long moments, her expression cold. “Turn around,” she eventually said.

He obeyed, and struggled not to react as his bonds were connected once more. She signaled for him to follow her lead, down a large hallway and flanked by more of her warriors. The sounds of their firm footfalls rang in his ears and pierced into his skull with each step. 

He was brought before a pair of great doors, and then lead into the room where his judgment would take place.

The staggering expanse of empty air slammed into him like a physical presence. Large windows spanned the wall and exposed the sky. He tried to stay calm as his stomach threatened to lurch into his throat, turning his gaze downwards in an attempt to keep the dizzying sight from disturbing him further. 

That was when he realized that the floor beneath him was clear glass.

He could not breathe. His nerves were screaming and he was trapped, exposed, with nothing solid to keep him anchored or hidden. He threw himself backwards only to meet the crossed vibranium spears of the Dora that stood behind him. Their weapons magnetized together, and he knew if he hurt them in his attempt to escape that the implants would trigger so that he would not be able to move and his lungs would not fill and his legs would not hold him and there was someone speaking but the words were lost in the screams of his mind-

He felt a warm pressure against his ears, and nearly flinched back again before he recognized the energy in the body that stood before him. He realized he was on his knees, his eyes clamped shut. It felt as if the air had returned to the room but it was too thin, oxygen refusing to settle in his spasming lungs.

He had failed. The rules were simple, but he could not follow them. He could not even bring himself to manage his emotions when it most mattered, why had he thought this would be any different?

When he cracked open his burning eyes, it was to the sight of Ndidi, her arms stretched out so that her hands could clasp against his ears. Her painted face was full of determination, and when she saw him looking, she gave him a small smile. 

“Ingqawa,” she greeted, her soft voice penetrating through the barrier created by her hands.

Loki shuddered as he struggled to catch his breath, his voice breaking over his lingering terror. “I...I told you...never to...call me that.”

She giggled in answer, and the noise was at once too loud and grounding. He recovered enough to note that the spears that had been pressed into him were no longer in place. 

His legs trembled beneath him. He carefully did not look down, his stomach jolting.

“Where is your mother,” he asked, his confusion at her presence overtaken by further worry.

“Here,” came the answer, somewhere behind her. Loki did not dare try to look. “Ndidi, you cannot stay there.”

The hands pressed more tightly to Loki’s ears as the girl’s face set. They both flinched as a booming voice echoed out behind her.

“Did I not say this would be ridiculous? The man hides behind a child. He cannot even face us on his feet. How do you expect him to withstand this interview?”

“His fear could be an indication of his guilt,” someone else said.

“It is the open space.” That was King T'Challa speaking. Loki tried to gather himself, to pay attention to what tone was held in the man’s voice. “Perhaps it would be better if we were to pause and reconvene elsewhere.”

The booming voice again, full of exasperation. “Just give him something to cover the floor beneath his feet and be done with it.”

“Loki,” the king said. “May my men approach you?”

 _No,_ he thought, already imagining that there had formed a void beneath the glass, and if he moved, he would fall through the floor and be lost forever.

“Yes,” he managed to choke out. 

Bodies approached. Loki struggled to continue breathing as evenly as possible as large woven blankets were methodically stretched upon the glass around them. 

“If you could draw her away, now,” the king said.

“Ndidi,” Anwuli hissed, with more urgency. 

Ndidi’s hands left Loki, and she made a quick escape back to her mother.

Loki was coaxed firmly to his feet. When he glanced down, the solidity of the ground beneath him was easier to believe with the emptiness covered from his sight. 

He glanced briefly at his judges. In his time in Wakanda he had learned from the Princess and Bucky the divisions of the country’s leadership. He knew that it was upon their combined vote that his imprisonment had been entrusted to the Wolf in the first place. He also knew that Bucky had regarded each of them with tremendous respect, nearly as much as he did the king himself. 

“Loki,” the king said. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes,” he answered, fighting to still the shivers in his limbs. He swallowed roughly against the press of nausea. “My apologies. I meant no disrespect.”

The largest man among them snorted loudly and directed his gaze to his fellow Council members. “You cannot trust a broken man’s words,” he said in a low rumble, before setting his gaze back on Loki in a clear challenge. “Only his actions.”

Loki exhaled carefully as he looked back, wisps of hatred curling beneath his terror. He remembered cowering in his prison as this particular Elder and his followers had shouted and attempted to provoke him. 

That M’Baku had little patience for anything that annoyed him was clear enough. And he had caused Loki great pain during their first meeting, if not intentionally. Bucky had never spoken on what had occurred during his own trial against M’Baku to convince the Jabari leader of his right to watch over Loki, but Loki knew there was little guessing as to the answer. 

Since he had not been specifically spoken to, in this instance, he decided to err on the side of caution and hold his tongue. He was sure if M’Baku desired more than that, he would easily demand it.

King T’Challa took in Loki’s silence with a sigh, his hands pressed flat upon the armrests of his throne. The displeasure in the reaction caused Loki’s throat to tighten. He wondered bleakly if he had already made yet another mistake, but before he could panic further, the king spoke. “As we discussed before your summons, the Tribal Council have concerns they wish to present.”

Loki answered in a tense nod. 

“Any members who wish to put forth these concerns may do so now.”

The first to speak up was a woman with locks of hair encased in clay. “Since your presence was discovered within our lands, your family has repeatedly drawn Wakanda into its political feuding.”

Loki dug his thumbnail sharply into his palm, his old hatred for Asgard fluttering in his chest like spent embers. He kept his gaze down. “I assure you, it has not been intentional on my part.”

“And yet, the man who was given charge of you in service of our country has now disappeared.”

Loki ground his teeth, as much at the accusation as the pain in the reminder. “I tried to find him,” he protested through a fresh bloom of hopelessness. “I performed every spell that I could think of.”

General Okoye regarded him shrewdly. “So you would have us believe you did not want revenge and freedom from his control?”

Loki closed his eyes and attempted to breathe through his frustration. His heart was hammering sharply against his ribcage. “Why would I seek his demise and then return, knowing the alternatives I would face?” 

M’Baku raised his hands. “You see? He uses his selfish nature as an argument for his own innocence. He thinks we cannot tell our own might over his fate.”

Loki wanted to protest, but even if the words had been a direct address, there was nothing he could think of to provide an adequate defense. 

He had been selfish. So selfish that he’d been willing to do whatever he had to not risk the greater nightmares that awaited him if he left the meager safety afforded to him as a helpless prisoner. And so the nightmares had come all the same.

General Okoye spoke again. “These spells you spoke of using. They could have just as well have been your efforts to ensure the White Wolf was never found again.”

Loki stared at her, nearly overwhelmed with the urge to laugh hysterically. He wondered if she had spoken these suspicions to the king prior to this questioning. 

King T'Challa regarded the interaction with an expression still pinched with displeasure, but did not interject. The rest of the Council similarly watched Loki, waiting in silence for his answer.

“They were not,” Loki eventually said, his voice weakening at the edges. He averted his eyes again, carefully keeping his gaze on the fabric that had been placed at his feet. “But neither were they enough.”

Another voice spoke up. “The princess said you believed him to be dead.” When Loki raised his eyes, he saw the words came from a woman dressed in green and standing directly to the side of the king. A new member, perhaps, for she had not been on the list of those taught by the princess. “But you still made plans with her to search for him.”

“Yes,” Loki answered. 

“And now? Do you still think he is dead?”

He wished that they would just kill him. It would be less agonizing than this continued questioning. 

He forced himself to consider his answer. “What I hope and what I believe are...at odds.”

She directed a meaningful and severe gaze to the king.

He gave her a brief nod, and raised his hand to indicate Anwuli and Ndidi, who yet remained off to the side. “These representatives of the Tribe spoke to us of your behavior over the last several months. They did not believe you would have a hand in plotting any ill wishes towards your guard. And my sister speaks glowingly of your interactions. With that in mind, I will present you with a few questions of my own.”

Loki dipped his head in acknowledgment, his posture stiff with readiness. 

“After King Odin invaded our lands and sought to reclaim you, I spoke to you personally. During our conversation, I presented to you the option of your freedom. This, and every offer thereafter, you have declined. I have not asked your reasoning before. But I will do so now.”

Loki felt his hesitation burgeon a weight upon his tongue. “I am afraid there is no simple answer.”

M’Baku glowered at him through a lowered brow. “Then it is good you are not going to speak to us as if we are a simple people.”

“It seemed a premature decision,” Loki said, trying to convey through his tone and posture his lack of challenge to their power. “I...I did not want to chance that your country would reconsider.”

The king frowned. “But you could have gone anywhere you wished with your abilities.”

“It would have drawn the attention of many more enemies,” Loki said. “Your advancements are more formidable than words can describe, but you are not the only people with such might.”

General Okoye narrowed her eyes. “So we should expect more such threats to come for you, is that what you are saying?”

“No,” Loki immediately said. “Your country is too well hidden. Even on Asgard it was considered only a myth.”

King T'Challa's frown deepened. “So why would you believe living here with your freedom would have been too much of a risk?”

Loki sucked in a breath, ducking his head down. “Considering the suspicions concerning my behavior while my power is yet bound, I would think not expecting such danger would be a gross oversight. Not that I am not grateful,” he quickly added. “I will...make amends for my failure. If it will be possible for me to do so.” 

Before anyone else could speak, a distant caw sounded. Loki tensed, and saw the perplexed expressions on the faces of the Council members.

The caw repeated. It was coming from the hallway outside.

The king nodded, and one of the guards posted near the door opened it. 

Hugin passed through the doors, moving at a casual pace down the steps that lead into the chambers. His head tilted curiously to gaze at the king’s guards and the Tribal Council as he made his way over to Loki. Once there, he pressed his beak to an orb latched to his leg, and a bright light shone from it and coalesced into grains of sand.

Loki frowned as they slowly took form in stacked cylindrical shapes. 

General Okoye was on her feet, stepping forward to examine the display. “What is this?”

“That is a three dimensional model of the Raft prison,” the king answered with a furrowed brow. 

As they watched, tiny grey humanoid forms coalesced within the structure - two of them fought, and fell to the very bottom. One did not rise, until the other approached, and then the lower levels of the Raft were cut through with a blast of power. They disconnected completely, falling out of sight.

Loki looked sharply towards Hugin. “Where did this come from?”

“From x-ray scans from my attention-drawing metal drone,” a familiar voice said. Loki turned his head to see the Falcon enter the Throne Room, followed by Princess Shuri. He gave Loki a look. “I mean, I hate to say I told you so...”

“I still had to extract the data and piece it together to approximate the visuals,” Princess Shuri said. 

Loki glanced in more interest at the projection again. “What visuals?”

The princess stepped towards the hologram, her gaze going to the Council as she pointed in indication. “The bottom floors of the Raft, the ones we all thought had just been destroyed. They were only disconnected from the rest of it.”

An additional figure suddenly appeared within the hologram, then disappeared and reappeared again, moving in frantic shots from floor to floor. 

The Falcon pointed at Loki. “That’s you,” he explained. “Not arriving until after Barnes was already gone.”

King T'Challa addressed the princess. “Why was this information not presented before?”

“Because, as Sam Wilson said, it was taken by scans from his attention-drawing metal drone,” she explained. “And I was not sure it would even contain the visuals we needed, but since it was decided our work to save the world and find Bucky was second to the interrogation of an innocent prisoner-”

“Shuri,” the king said in warning.

“What? It’s all right there. Do you need to see it again? Hugin.”

Hugin immediately pecked at the bead again, replaying the visual without waiting for an answer. Loki kept an eye on the two fighting figures this time, the movements of one too familiar to discount. There were more on the lower level, and when the two figures fell through the floor towards them, one was distracted by their approach and then run through with a blade.

Bucky. Fighting to his last.

Loki’s magic lashed against its bonds.

“That was a demonstration,” Shuri said, her voice rising to address the Council members. “You all already know our plans. We are ready to put them in motion. I would propose we put this questioning aside so we can focus on what is important. No aircraft in Wakanda will be able to move across the world as quickly as Loki, and we are wasting valuable time if we do not allow him to help.”

“And what of his will,” M’Baku asked, before his gaze moved directly to Loki. “You cowered before glass.”

_“You froze in the field.”_

Loki swallowed with difficulty. “It is not my sister I fear,” he said. “Her defeat at my hands will come too fast for any worry.”

“Then defeat her,” M’Baku said. “Settle your war, Ingqawa. After that _maybe_ I will begin to believe the words you speak.”

At the title, Loki darted his gaze to Ndidi. She had gripped into her mother’s pants, the white flash of her toothy smile exposing her mirth before she hid her face against the fabric.

The king gazed about at the other Council members. Some of them nodded, if reluctantly. 

The princess spoke impatiently. “So we are done talking? We can take him?”

The king’s expression twitched in irritation, before softening. “Go,” he said. “Keep me apprised.”

Princess Shuri clamped her hand about Loki’s arm. “Come on.”

He was lead from the throne room, Hugin’s eager flight to follow ending with him lighting on Loki’s shoulder. When they were far enough down the hallway, the princess examined the bonds about his wrists and quickly used her beads to release them. 

Loki struggled to overcome his confusion at this transition of events. “The projection...was the representation accurate?”

The Falcon nodded. “As much as we can tell.”

Loki nodded, his eyes burning. 

“It doesn’t mean he’s out yet,” the Falcon said, with foolish optimism disguised as reasonable logic. “We know those supersoldier types can take a lot of punishment.”

“Stop,” Loki said. “My only aim now is Hela’s destruction.” 

They were distracted by the approach of purposeful footsteps. Loki turned to see General Okoye. She was alone.

She came to a stop beside them, and then indicated Loki with a jerk of her head. “You,” she said, then released a sigh through her nostrils. “When you were kidnapped, the White Wolf located you in a matter of hours. And he had no magic to speak of with which to aid him. He used his mind and his experience.” She took another step forward, and Loki struggled not to flinch as the point of her spear came to rest against his chest. “When you fix this, you will do it outside of our borders. Do not under any circumstances bring this war into our lands. Do not speak to any outsiders where it is you have been kept.” She glanced towards the princess. “And if she receives so much as a bruise, be assured you will not escape consequences.”

Loki’s mouth grew dry. He swallowed with difficulty and inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“You know that is not how it is going to happen,” Princess Shuri said. “I am going to be the one protecting _him_.”

“That is exactly what worries me,” General Okoye responded. She pursed her lips, staring at Loki like she had found him wanting. “Remember your head. That man sacrificed his own safety in service of Wakanda so he could oversee your care.”

She turned away from him, finally releasing him from her accusing eyes. The ache of sorrow within him had been stirred again to life at her words, but it was no longer so torrential.

He knew his next step.

\------------

The soldier was awake. He was mobile.

Hela observed him closely, feeling for the threads of his life, reawakened to their fullest potential. There didn’t appear to be any notable side effects to the healing process, besides the further and annoying drain on her power. 

They’d both had their rest. She was more than ready to progress. And, one way or another, she would.

Strangely enough, the human looked even more worried about her now that he was uninjured. His body coiled dangerously at her approach. She supposed it would have been too much to hope for that he would immediately stop being so difficult upon receiving such a gift. 

She shook out the last dregs of the sting of electric shock from her legs. “You know, I wasted quite a lot of energy on healing your wounds,” she pointed out. “The least you can do is to hear what I have to say.” 

She hoped he would do it before she grew bored and simply decapitated him out of spite. His aid was a worthy goal, but her patience was not infinite, and if he continued to prove to be more trouble than he was worth…

The human’s frown changed. There was still a large amount of caution in his eyes, but this time he granted her with a response. “What do you want?”

She took another step towards him, and relished the way he defensively twitched back against the shields that bordered him. “Perhaps the fact that you were dying made your situation less than clear,” she said. “So I’ll do you a favor and narrow things into simple terms. That arm of yours...you can use it to remove this infernal device you applied to me. Once that’s taken care of, I would like you to join me. At least until I’ve defeated Odin’s more powerful son.”

His metal hand curled, his expression closing off. “I’m not doing that.”

It seemed he wasn’t going to be as grateful as she’d hoped. 

“I saved your life,” Hela pointed out in exasperation. “I showed you _mercy_. And after you challenged me and left me in the grips of imprisonment. Are you really telling me you’d rather I take it after all?”

A muscle jumped in the human’s cheek. He watched her warily, his eyes almost overlarge on his face. But he wouldn’t even say anything in his defense.

She sighed, her rage beginning to take full hold. With the device yet in place in her side she was well aware that it would potentially take _weeks_ at this point until her strength was built enough to withstand another attack from the princes and their allies. Her impatience for that power warred with her aversion of further imprisonment.

“Fine,” she said, raising her arm and calling forth her magic with the intention of summoning a blade, cursing the waste this had been. 

“Wait,” he immediately said, stopping her completion of the movement. 

She narrowed her eyes. “I warn you,” she said, still feeling the sting of his repeated rejections. “If you’re intending on simply stalling me, I will not be pleased.”

His eyes darted to her still-empty hand. “We weren’t in Norway to stop you.”

“I had figured that out,” she said, voice dry. It was abundantly clear that no one there had known who she was. “What is your point?”

He swallowed, keeping the rest of his body carefully still. “We were there for Odin.”

She rolled her eyes, aggrieved at the prospect of hearing details on how well-loved her deceased father had been. “To join him in solidarity in his dying moments. How touching.”

“No,” he answered, with a quick shake of his head. “That thing in your side was made for him.”

That gave her pause. She remembered Odin’s second son rudely intercepting her attacks, and speaking with her as he did. _”I’ve learned not to underestimate them. I think that you’ll soon find out the same.”_

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Are you telling me that Midgard was seeking to overthrow Odin?” What a joke that would have been. If Asgard was _that_ much weakened, her return could not have come soon enough. 

The soldier gave a single shake of his head. “Just stop him. In case he was planning on attacking us again.”

Surprise filled her. “And why would _Odin_ target humans?” 

The fingers of his metal arm began moving, but it seemed a quiet indication of distress rather than the formation of any sort of attack. “Because he was trying to lock up your brother. We were protecting him.”

“ _Really?_ ” Hela digested the picture this painted. “What a problem solver dear old dad was.” She addressed the human again, recalling his closeness to the most pressing threat to her rule. “Yet the second prince delivered the first blow. He had nothing substantial to gain in attacking me.”

He swallowed, his metal fingers twitching again. “You were trying to kill us.”

“And what else should I have done?” She curled her lip. “It was you who attacked first. I was merely trying to take my rightful place as Queen of Asgard. And once I have returned to my home, the chaos of every realm will be calmed by the might of my hands.”

He didn’t look convinced. “By killing them.”

Her mood quickly curdled in further displeasure. “For those who stand against me, yes. But you can’t tell me the thought doesn’t appeal to you. You savor the heat of battle as much as any Asgardian berserker I’ve seen.”

He worked his jaw again, his metal hand clenching tight. His gaze was lowered.

It was like he was a completely different person from the warrior that had faced her. She allowed her voice to go low with threat. “I told you what I would think of you attempting to stall me.”

“I’m not,” he answered, voice gruff. He seemed to steel himself, his posture straightening. He reached out and deactivated the shields that surrounded him, then bared his teeth and lashed out with his metal arm, sending one side flying into the wall. 

Hela watched in curiosity as he rose to his feet and stepped free of the shields, leaving himself demonstratively vulnerable to attack. 

“I’ll take it out,” he said, the words snapping from him like a wolf’s bite.

Hela tilted her head. When she approached, the soldier held himself carefully still. She could see the pulse in his neck racing faster at her proximity, his life thrumming hot in his veins. She carefully withdrew her armor from the inflamed patch of skin on her side, and stared at him expectantly. 

He looked down, his hair falling forward and hiding his face from her gaze. Chilled metal brushed against her skin.

He didn’t bother to insult her with soft handling or ceremony. His fingers punched through her weakened flesh in a pull of seizing pain that only heightened as he sought out the device yet buried within her. She clenched her jaw as she endured, and a moment later was rewarded by the dampener being yanked free in a gout of blood.

She felt the difference with a joyous breath. The blocks on her magic disappeared, allowing it to rush freely once again. Her wounded skin healed nearly instantaneously. The pain faded. Her armor conformed back over her body, stronger than ever.

She rolled her neck, reveling in the return of her strength. “Oh, that’s _so_ much better.”

The soldier still held the blood-soaked device in his hand. As she watched, he crushed it into oblivion in his palm, shards trickling free to fall to the floor.

He stared at her in silence. Now that he had given in to her wishes, she could view his laconic nature with some fondness.

“Now you will swear fealty to my rule with a show of devotion,” she said. She placed a hand on her hip, and with the other illustratively pointed to the ground. “Kneel.”

She saw the line of his jaw tense. But his hesitation did not extend more than a few seconds. He went down on one knee, his hard gaze resting somewhere around her boots. 

She warmed at the sight, and even more at his stillness. He awaited her command, not raising his eyes, though he remained nervous at her presence.

She gave him a pleased look that he could not see. “What is your name?”

He blinked in confusion at her question.

“Jack and the others call you the Winter Soldier,” she said. “I’m assuming that is a title meant to describe your role in your previous partnership.”

A flash of anger filled his eyes, quickly extinguished. “My name is Bucky,” he said, and though his voice was kept mostly flat, she could hear the thread of emphasis in the words.

“Well then, Bucky,” she said, “give me your hand.”

She could see the question in his eyes, the hesitation that wanted to overtake him once more. He finally moved his gaze to her face, and then to the hand she was holding outstretched. 

Smooth metal, still coated with her own blood, grazed softly against her skin before it settled more firmly against her palm.

 _Good boy,_ she thought, testing the feel of the metal’s strength against her own. A reward was certainly in order here. And after all, all Executioners needed a proper weapon. Whatever substance that made up her newest companion’s arm, it was at its base components a worthy opponent of the uru Asgard used for its most powerful weapons. The only thing it currently lacked was a bit of magic.

She gathered a generous amount of her power, pushing it to flow through her. It was eagerly accepted by the limb.

His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. 

She took her time with ensuring he had enough stored to be useful. Then she placed firm pressure on his hand, drawing him up to stand before her as she released him. “Try it out,” she urged. 

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, a small amount of blackness sparking at their tips. His skin paled, and his eyes darted back to hers. 

The proper respect for such power. 

“I think I’m going to like you,” she said.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, we'll soon be getting to the parts in this fic where I uh, _really_ start to have a good time writing it. Which, generally, means the characters...don't. (Not that they’ve been enjoying themselves much before now.) As always, not planning on a downer end for this story, but there are some warnings coming up that are under the "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings" tag.
> 
> Aaaanyway. Happy Friday the 13th.

Bucky followed Hela from the flimsy safety of his barricade and out through the corridors of the Raft towards a huge room at the center of it. His claustrophobia was a thrumming tightness in his limbs, and the openness of the new space didn’t help. He could feel Hela’s power infecting every inch of the walls.

But he felt it the strongest in his prosthetic. He couldn’t get away from it or keep his distance, because the problem was literally screwed into his bones. The cold of it sank into his body, slowing his blood and setting a raw ache into his shoulder and down the nerves of his spine. He felt like his heart was pumping too slow and erratic. Like it was fighting just to keep pumping.

Or maybe that was all just in his head. Just then it didn’t feel like it mattered much. It was a struggle to leave the prosthetic alone, to keep his focus on walking instead of giving into the urge to rub at the scarring around his shoulder. 

A memory rumbled through his mind, of torn flesh and hot blood coursing in rivulets down his chest.

( _“What happened?”_ )

( _“The Soldier is confused. He is rejecting the limb. He tried to carve it off._ ”)

_Focus,_ Bucky thought. _You’re in deep enough shit as it is. Don’t let things already done with start creeping in on you._

( _”Do not think. You are far better when you simply react.”_ )

The words rang in Bucky’s mind. Loki had said them, back when he’d done his damnedest to get them to have sex for the first time. It had been a dig as much as it had probably been what Loki really believed. 

Bucky had felt the truth of those words as he’d trapped himself without a hope of rescue or escape. He’d waited, trying to think through the pain tearing ragged through skin and muscle and organ. When Hela had given him her offer, he’d refused, and it had only ended in the world fading out. 

The second time he’d seen his end looming, he’d acted impulsively to avoid it. The outcome had been marginally better than having his heart run through and his corpse thrown out to feed whatever creatures lived in the deep sea. 

It would be ideal if that pattern continued, that he could work better when he didn’t think up a plan. Because, just at the moment, he had _no fucking idea_ what he was going to do when the inevitable started happening. 

There were no exits here that he’d survive. At least, not right now. Maybe, if he could stick it out until they reached land, he’d have better luck with thinking of something. He didn’t know how long they’d been down in the depths, but the electricity in the Raft was still functioning. And other than Hela’s power making him feel like every breath he took was tainting his lungs in a black film, the air was breathable. Maybe, if he could rig something...

No, that wouldn’t work. Not while Hela could take things in her environment and layer them with her magic to help make her stronger. 

She’d done it with the Raft. And now, she was doing it with his arm. 

He had a strong feeling that it wasn’t like Loki’s magic. Loki had no control over what Bucky did with the energy once it was stored in the arm, and as strong as it was, Bucky hadn’t even known it was there the first time he’d absorbed it. 

Hela’s power...Bucky swore he could feel it writhing where it sat in the arm’s storage devices, as aware and lively as a pile of maggots. 

What wasn’t hers, was the hefty charge of stabilizing energy he’d absorbed from the dampener that he’d removed from her side. 

He knew he only had one chance with it if he wanted to take her out. By his own fucking doing, she was too powerful now for anything else. 

It wouldn’t be a cakewalk. Her armor covered every inch of her skin save for her hands, face and shoulders. Even though it seemed like it was a weird extension of her magic, just like the weapons she could call at will, it was going to add another layer he’d need to break past if he wanted to land a killing blow. 

The back of her neck would be the best bet. He’d use all of the energy at once in a blast, weakening her armor and skin, compromising her bones. He’d have to brace and hold tight her to keep her from getting blasted away from his grip.

Then, with a quick crushing motion, he could finish it.

There wouldn’t be any room for error. If he messed up, picked the wrong moment, moved even a millisecond too slow, then incapacitation would be the best he could hope for. The more realistic outcome was that it would provide a brief distraction, before she got royally pissed off.

This choice was better than just ending up dead before he even had the chance to try to stop her again. It had to be. She’d been weakened with the stabilizer in place, but not enough, and not in the right spot for anyone else to finish the job. A job he’d spent most of the last century perfecting.

(“ _You shaped the century_.”)

And if she’d wanted to stay unseen, she could do it. She could probably spend years at the bottom of the ocean building herself up. No one would know she was coming. 

Even if it worked, Bucky was excruciatingly aware of how little chance there was of him making it out of this alive. The way she looked at him made his skin tingle; it made him feel owned. She didn’t care at all about the ammunition she’d given him. She wasn’t concerned about him turning on her. She knew as well as he did that even before he’d ripped out the stabilizer, without Loki’s energy, she had him beat. 

If he’d just fucking done what he had to do in the first place, instead of letting his head stall him at a crucial moment with a seconds-long guilt trip...

His thoughts disbanded as he noticed the members of STRIKE gathered together ahead, dressed in armor that they'd peeled off some of the Raft guards. They were mid-conversation, but Bucky didn’t take in a word of it as he felt the reaction to the sight of them clench viscerally in his lungs and gut, all the way up to ratchet pressure through his teeth.

They noticed him in turn a moment later. A half-dozen guns instantly came up - all except for the one held by Rollins, who stood at their head. He was scowling, but not in confusion. He looked like he’d been expecting them.

Hela indicated Bucky with a smug flourish, unconcerned with being directly in the path of so many barrels. “I told you I would show you my true strength,” she said.

Bucky thought he was going to lose it. He wished he could. The tension felt like it was going to break his jaw if he didn’t release it, the red seeping into his mind so strongly that he nearly panted with the effort of keeping himself still. He imagined attacking the STRIKE agents and the sensation of their flesh and bones giving way beneath his prosthetic, their bodies flying hard enough into the surrounding walls to crack open their skulls. He knew exactly how much force to exert, and where exactly to exert it to make that happen.

But he knew that killing them would only feed into Hela’s power. 

Bucky still didn’t bother to school his expression to hide what he was feeling. He let his rage spread out and become a sharp throb in his chest, because if he knew if he didn’t he would instead be preoccupied by the distant terror in his head, clamoring for the foreground of his thoughts. He’d start thinking about metal gripping into his skull and an avalanche of agony burning out his mind. He’d remember the nausea that had choked his throat when he’d realized how much his world had been warped, his true north yanked far off its axis into whatever HYDRA had needed. He’d think about the mountain of corpses he’d left in his wake. 

Rage was better.

Hela looked at him, and something pleased danced in her gaze. She didn’t rebuke him or tell him to stand down. “This is only the beginning,” she said to the room at large. “Your mortal frailty will no longer be a problem once I reach my true potential.”

Rollins stood at the ready, his jaw set and his eyes hard when they met Bucky’s. After a few moments he gave a brief nod, like he didn’t notice the murderous intent in front of his face. But then, he’d had plenty of practice at that overseeing the Winter Soldier during maintenance. 

Rollins still broke eye contact first. He covered it up by talking to Hela. “So what’s our next move?”

Hela raised an arm up. There was a screeching noise that made Bucky start, deepening into something loud and resonant, like the walls around them were suddenly in the jaws of some giant monster that was starting to bite down. The floor began to slant, making him plant and redistribute his weight to keep from pitching over the ground. Some of the STRIKE agents didn’t do the same in time, and went sliding before they could scramble back up.

The surrounding metal walls began to bend inwards until they split with deepening cracks filled with obsidian, cooling the air and spreading it thick with the same darkness Bucky harbored in his prosthetic. 

Hela raised her other arm, and the floor slowly evened out, the noise growing less violent. “Now, we rise,” she said, her voice echoing off the walls, “and soon I will begin my great conquest.”

Bucky swallowed, some of his anger taking a back seat to the more pressing anxiety as he cataloged the situation. 

They’d taken his Kimoyo Beads. He was all but surrounded by armed men expecting him to lash out. Unless Hela let him out of her sight, he knew whatever move he made would have to wait until they surfaced. 

It was a risk. More lives would be in danger of dying at her hands. The US Marshals could be patrolling the area when they surfaced. Maybe even some Wakandans.

It meant a lot of other things, too. Things that he was going to shove to the back of his mind and lock down and do his best not to acknowledge any time soon. 

While Hela concentrated on pushing them to the surface, Rollins slowly approached Bucky. Bucky felt his hackles rise and knew his hatred was showing on his face, but Rollins was only half paying attention to him. A portion of his focus was directed at Hela as she continued to build her magic.

Rollins came to a stop just feet beside Bucky. “I knew you’d agree,” he said. “You’d’ve been in the ground a long time ago if you didn’t know when to let others take charge.”

Bucky didn’t respond, didn’t ask one of the dozens of questions running through his head. But he also didn’t stop the plates of his prosthetic from shifting, or try to hide his clenched fist, imagining it was clamped over Rollins’s trachea and tearing his throat out. He was fairly sure that with Shuri’s superior design, half a second was all it would take.

Rollins noticed, and his arms tensed in readiness, but he didn’t bring his gun up. “You know she’s thousands of years old. Went off to war with her dad when she was twenty. Guess things aren’t that different in space.” He glanced at Bucky’s face and then away again. “You know what she did for you, right?”

Bucky stared back, rage unfurling, torn between the hatred that drove him not to engage in any conversations and the hot shame that silence was exactly what HYDRA had wanted from him in their interactions.

“That a yes?” Another glance, and Rollins’s face pinched as he quickly averted his eyes. “Jesus, forgot all about that look. Well, if you don’t know, let me spell it out for you. She _saved_ your ass. I saw her tear through the best fucking security the world has to offer in a matter of minutes without breaking a sweat, without bothering with any subterfuge at all as they came at her. And she’s only going to get stronger.”

Bucky had to turn his gaze away, because otherwise he was going to relieve the pressure in his chest by throwing Rollins into the wall. Hela was still working her magic, her eyes closed and her arms outstretched, her hair spread like oil down her back. The lines of her armor had changed, the ashy grey now overlaid with a tint of pale green. 

His head suddenly tried to jar sideways into thoughts about Loki, and the additional layer of guilt when he thought about how they’d left things. At least Loki had started to open up to some of the Wakandans before this nightmare had started. He wouldn’t be alone if Bucky didn’t make it back home. 

_Who are you kidding? You know he’s not just going to move on in a day. That was why he was so fucking terrified of letting you help him in the first place._

And Bucky didn’t want to die here. He didn’t want to say goodbye to his friends or the kids in the village. He hadn’t wanted this thing with Loki to end how it started: a mess. 

Rollins wasn’t bothered by his lack of response. “I know your hard-on for Rogers got the better of you. But this is bigger than HYDRA ever was. Forget a new world order. That’s just her first step. Anything, on Earth, or up in the sky, that’s all fair game. So you can keep watching me like you want my head on a platter. If you want to keep breathing, if you don’t want to end up back in a box, this is where you need to be.”

“Jack,” Hela said, finally lowering her arms. 

Rollins came to attention, stepping towards her, his back exposed to Bucky. Either confident Bucky wouldn’t attack or sure that Hela would stop him if he did.

Hela evidently didn’t need to actively work to keep them rising to the top. She turned to Rollins with an easy camaraderie. “I would like to know the direction to the nearest land with a...dense population.”

Bucky’s heart pounded as Rollins and Hela began to discuss potential targets. He tried not to think too hard on how easy it was for him to slip into the background while his ( _handlers_ ) enemies discussed the best locations for killing huge groups of people at once. 

The other STRIKE agents were still watching him. Bucky’s thoughts roiled and thrashed, shifting into the echoes of barked orders and concrete walls. He fought against them to keep himself present but his stomach felt jolted, like there was a step beneath him that he’d missed on the way down the stairs. Unbalanced. A voice in his head, wondering how much of his time outside of HYDRA was reality. 

_You found an alien sorcerer underground in a wonderland in Africa, and you fell for him. That doesn’t sound crazy to you, Barnes?_

He knew the voice was wrong. Looking at the truth of Hela’s existence and knowing what she could do proved it wrong. Maybe Rollins thought he’d been speaking the truth when he’d told Bucky this was where he needed to be, but he’d been far off the mark. Bucky’s place was miles away in warm air and earth, in cool water and the burn from a long swim. It was in Shuri’s lab, watching her passion and joy as she developed incredible technologies from scratch. 

It was in the quiet dark of his hut, watching the rise and fall of Loki’s chest and the soothing blue glow of his earbuds.

That didn’t make it go away: the thought that no one was out there. No one was coming. He’d always been here.

( _”Do not think. You are far better when you simply react.”_ )

God, he sure as hell hoped so.

\----------

Loki sat in the center of the princess’s experimental chamber, taking relief from the lack of vibranium to help ready his mind for the plan to come. His emotions remained a tempest within him but now he had focus, a target towards which they would imminently be released. 

To name it a battle would be charitable. He would tear Hela to pieces. She was the Goddess of Death; she could die like it.

“How much longer do we have?” The Captain’s voice, sounding from the speakers that threaded into the room. 

Loki twitched, his magic unwavering even as he felt the sound like needles in his ears, though dulled in comparison to experiencing it in the free air of Wakanda. He let the hurt chase free the exhaustion hovering at the edges of his mind, beginning to run ragged after the long days of stress. 

“Not long,” Thor said in response. “Hugin has likely already found his target.”

“And you’re completely sure the whole possibility of them being underwater thing’s not going to be a problem for him,” the Falcon asked.

Thor’s frown was clear in his voice. “I do not understand the difficulty you are having in grasping this concept. Do the ravens of Earth not swim?”

“No. You’re thinking of penguins, which generally don’t go deeper than a third of a mile.”

“If they were from Asgard, they would,” Thor said with certainty.

“If they had evolved from Wakanda, they also would,” Princess Shuri added.

“Okay,” the Falcon said, taken aback at the responses. “This is officially the weirdest show of flexing I’ve ever been a part of.”

“How’s Loki doing?” the Captain asked. “He’s been in there a while.”

“He hasn’t moved at all in the last hour, from what I’ve seen,” the Widow said.

“He is working,” Princess Shuri said. “See how the outputs of his magic have decreased? He is practicing more focused use of his power.”

“Focused,” the Falcon said dubiously. “These energy levels make it look like Mr. Gung-ho in there’s about three seconds from going Super Saiyan.”

“This is nothing,” Princess Shuri said. “He can produce much more than this. And as long as you wear your beads, it will not harm you.”

“He can also hear everything you are saying,” Loki said, his irritation coating his tone. 

“They are just worried about you,” Princess Shuri said.

Loki was quite certain she was wrong. None of the Avengers knew him. Not even Thor. Their feelings would stem from whatever concerns they had of his capabilities now that they had seen him fail. 

They knew he was broken. But fate was at least giving him this much of a reprieve, and he would take it. He would use the shattered edges of himself to bleed his foes dry.

“I will exit the chamber when Hugin contacts us,” Loki said. 

Thankfully, they did not attempt to bother him further. Their voices washed over him as they discussed their part in the plan like they would provide any substantial benefit. The princess was the only one among them he would consider in possession of enough ability to be of any real help. But in reality, her presence would only be required to keep the hold on his implants loosened, to allow Loki to rend through his enemies and send them screaming into whatever afterlife awaited them. 

As for what came after...it did not matter. As long as Odin’s firstborn suffered and died, and her allies followed suit, Loki would take whatever punishment the universe saw fit to deal him next. He no longer cared.

He could not care. 

“You still really wanna die, huh?”

He looked up. Bucky was sitting on the ground beside him, broad and strong, his face drawn and tired but his bearing steady. Loki could nearly feel the heat that came from him. He could imagine the scent of him and the feel of each curve of muscle that lay beneath those clothes.

Loki’s heart seized. He dissipated the illusion quickly, wary of the Avengers seeing it. 

He just as soon wished for its return. 

It wouldn’t have been real, but Loki knew that if he were to expend effort, perhaps he could make it feel as real as he needed it to be. 

He sharply turned away, berating himself. This was not where his mind should be focused. As if the knowledge of that would help. 

He remembered when Bucky had spoken those words, and the feelings of weakness they had stirred within him. Imprisoned by his enemies, in fear of not his death but his continued living torment, and Loki’s mind had still attached itself to the kindness offered by the Wolf without care of reason. 

Just as it did now, even if that kindness was offered by nothing but a false image. 

Perhaps, he thought, perhaps if he simply allowed himself to wholly think Bucky alive…to believe in such a ludicrous dream…

It might help his concentration.

That was, up until fate firmly reminded him of how maligned it considered his happiness.

No, better to know now that an illusion was all that was left for him. The only comfort that the world had to offer. 

Still, he’d spent the better part of the last several months training with the Wolf. His presence had helped Loki extend himself and learn control of his power through practicality. It was possible a simulacrum could be of assistance.

Carefully, he tried again, with specific intent to mask the illusion from outside eyes, to control his energy such that the princess’s technology could not sense it. Bucky formed, his metal arm reflecting the glare of the overhead lights, the puckering of scar tissue exposed around the limb. 

“It would certainly be simpler,” Loki answered, as if the conversation had not been interrupted. “But I am here, am I not?”

There wasn’t a response. Loki knew well the words and actions that followed this exchange, but his presentation of Bucky stared off into space, expression closed. 

In a feeling Loki refused to name desperation, he tried to better control his magic, to inject more of it into the realness of his creation. 

Bucky’s illusion started as if coming to life. Blue eyes met Loki’s. “Maybe you _would_ be better off dead,” he said, with a small but scathing smile. “At least I wouldn’t have to deal with your shit anymore. Not that I have to anyway, since you let me-”

Bucky exploded into sparks of green, the wild abruptness of his disapparation leaving char marks on the white floor. Loki’s breath came through bared teeth, his outstretched hand trembling and his vision blurring.

He let his hand drop, his entire form shuddering, sick with shame for himself. 

So much for comfort. 

\----------

Hela’s new Executioner spent most of his time during their ascent standing silent in the corner of the room, his expression set in a perpetual glower as he watched the rest of their allies. Jack had just finished speaking on their proximity to a place called Europe, which he promised to be swarming with mortals unable to withstand her.

“We’ll need data first,” Jack said. “The Raft might not have much of a navigational system seeing as it wasn’t meant to be moved. But if any of the aircraft are still on board the other section of it we can use it to get a heading so we don’t end up in Antarctica.” 

“Fine,” Hela said. “We will reach the surface soon. I left a large amount of power on that vessel, anyway. I would like to reclaim it.”

Jack gave a sharp nod. “Whatever you need.”

Hela smiled, more than prepared for what would follow. Her route had been frustrating in its slowness, but now it was nearing the result for which she was destined. 

She knew she would not have to go looking for the sons of Odin - they would come to her, as soon as she was ready. She would draw power from their deaths, just as she had from the humans. 

She raised her voice so it would carry. “Executioner, walk with me.” She began to move without bothering to check if her demand was heeded. She knew he would follow, if only to rid himself of the presence of the others. 

As she had predicted, his steps shadowed her path. She looked over her shoulder - his expression remained dour, and she could see a muscle jump in his cheek when he noted her attention.

“You hate them,” she said, the words not a question. 

Further wariness entered his gaze, his throat moving in a swallow. 

She gave a half smile. “It’s not terribly important. Odin and I didn’t always get along on the battlefield, even before he sank himself into his ridiculous plans for sustaining peace.” They came to a wall, which she spread apart with a gesture, before stepping through. “What specific grievance against them do you hold to the strongest?”

He’d hesitated just outside the opening, his gaze watching the swords beneath him. He took care in stepping over them, and just as soon darted his gaze over the metal cell doors that spanned the walls, their crowded nature denoting the diminutive size of the contents.

She placed her hands on her hips, drawing his attention. “Well? Is it the organization they are no longer a part of? The endless rules and restrictions on your behavior? Or is it something else? The fact that they lied to you. Used you only as a tool to suit their own ends.”

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “Might be that.” He was still gazing warily around the corridor, as if he expected a trap. An attack.

She waved her hand and one of the cell doors burst off its frame with a loud screech. Her Executioner flinched, his eyes growing wide.

Hela gestured towards it. When he remained unmoving, she spoke with light sternness. “Go ahead. Take a look inside.”

He approached the open cell with caution, posture poised and hands curled at his sides. She watched as he looked into what amounted to a small slab of a room, with four windowless walls of metal. While she’d allowed the power of her necroswords to adjust the appearance of much of the rest of the vessel in the spread of her power, this cell she’d intentionally kept in its original state.

“This would have been your prison,” she said. “If this world took you alive.”

The color drained from his face, his eyes darting as he took in the room in more detail. It held barely enough space to house a man of his size physically, let alone comfortably. Its walls contained slots for restraints, and far more of them on the side that would have held his metal arm.

“If you had attempted to break free from it, there would be measures taken. Gases, electricity. Whatever would be required to subdue you.” She moved closer to him, and used her power over the vessel to extrude some of the containment devices therein - a tank that housed gases for sedation and a machine that sparked electricity when she activated it. She was somewhat offended the humans had not considered her to be enough of a threat to warrant this amount of caution. “Imprisoned beneath the water until death. Less inventive than some of Odin’s best punishments, but pain and isolation are all the same in the end, wouldn’t you agree?” 

She watched him struggle to manage his breathing. He backed a step away from the cell, eyes darting towards her as if he was uncertain it was within his right to do so. 

She narrowed her eyes meaningfully. “The others swore their fealty to me, just as you did. This world seeks to punish you for your skill as a warrior. On Asgard, you would be lauded for it.”

He went still, his brow coming down once more, his gaze firmly directed away from the cell. “Yeah, I got the message.”

“And what are your thoughts?”

He worked his jaw, inhaling deeply through his nostrils. He lifted his eyes, and the ache in them was visible beneath his cold mask. “I said I’d do it, didn’t I?”

“Good.” She formed an assassin’s dagger within her palm. It was a weapon befitting a warrior who preferred speed and maneuverability in combat. She offered it to him.

He warily reached for it, curling metal digits about the hilt. He didn’t bother to ask what he would be using it for.

As if on cue, the entire vessel gave an upwards heaving motion. The roar of water penetrated the walls. Her Executioner froze, knees bent for balance, staring at the ceiling as if he thought it would consume him.

It could, if she wished it.

“We’ve reached the surface,” she announced. “Before we proceed to land, I would like you to kill the others.”

His face instantly contorted a degree tighter, but his eyes widened further. The word that followed was more mouthed than spoken. “What?”

“They’re useless to me,” she said bluntly. “I would have thought you’d prefer the opportunity, since you mislike them so much. Allow that violence simmering within you to have its outlet. Uncork some of that…” She gestured expansively at the way he was nearly shaking on his feet. “...tension.” She turned on her heel, her steps carrying her back up to Jack and the others. “Well, Executioner?”

He followed.

The others looked torn at their return, their eyes glued to her Executioner in mistrust. It would not be a concern for them much longer. 

She raised her hands, breaking apart the hull of the vessel around them, allowing fresh air to rush over them. The sound of water lashing and folding against the sides of the prison grew louder. Metal clattered down, spilling saltwater with it. The men were forced to sidestep as she broke down the ceiling and walls, pulling the necroswords contained within down into the floor beneath them.

When it was done, they stood on an island of metal and death. A thrill filled her as she spotted its companion, floating freely nearby. It had drifted in the interim of her concealment beneath the water, but she had managed to angle the rest and bring it up quite close to where it rested on the surface. It was the work of minutes to bring the pieces together again, connecting them with a bridge of her magic, spearing them with solid black spikes.

The power she’d sacrificed by fleeing was reclaimed, the lives taken once again feeding themselves into her strength.

It was night, and the stars glittered above. The moon glowed strongly upon the water, a white crescent blade stirring with the waves. She stared up into the sky, and wondered where among those glowing lights Asgard was positioned. She would see it again soon enough.

“There’s no one out here,” Jack said with some surprise as he scanned the dark around them. 

“Disappointing,” Hela said, stepping upon the join she’d created between the pieces of the prison. “Perhaps they saw what I did to the others and fled.”

“Maybe. I still don’t like it. What if they come and try to drain you again with one of those things?”

“They’ll have a much harder time of it.” She gazed back at her Executioner, who had not moved far from the spot where he’d exited into fresh air. “And I now have the means to remove any such devices.”

Her Executioner kept eye contact. His body was perfectly still, but his hair whipped about in the wind. Like that, knife in hand, he almost looked like an Asgardian.

She raised her voice, letting it sound out over the waves. “I spent twenty years being raised to be the perfect warrior, and another twenty drowning the Nine Realms in blood. I secured Asgard’s hold so that it could rule those that needed to be ruled. There were still so many other realms left untouched when Odin changed his mind and locked me away.” She paused, the sting of disdain and frustration still burrowed deep in her heart. “That was thousands of years ago. Odin is now dead. My reign is about to begin. I will finish what I started.” 

She raised her hands and formed her helmet, the reassuring weight of it gripping into her skull. Green cloth draped down from her shoulders and flowed in the wind. 

“Jack,” she said, “do you trust your queen?”

She saw the realization hit Jack’s eyes. They widened enough that she saw the whites before he composed himself. He looked around at his brothers in arms, then stepped forward, his gun demonstratively lowered. Sweat glistened at his temples, the scent of his fear mingling with the salt on the air. 

She gazed at the remaining men with shrewd eyes. “And the rest of you?”

Some of them sent glances out at the water, as if they were considering the coward’s way out of jumping into the waves. 

But none of them did. These were warriors who were well used to the dangers of death associated with their allegiances.

Their reward would come with proof of it. 

They gathered in a semicircle around her. A paltry squadron, numbering not even a dozen men.

But until she reached Asgard, they would have to do.

“Executioner,” she called. “You may have your release, now.”

Jack and the rest of the men whirled and raised their weapons, readying them for firing. Her Executioner tensed but there were no walls for him to hide behind, no escape except the depths.

His metal hand held the knife within it steady. “What is this?”

“Your second order under my command,” she said with emphasis. “I prefer that my allies die in true battle. At my word, they will begin firing.”

The words sank in, his eyes darting between the weapons directed towards him. She saw his muscles coil. 

“You have been healed,” Hela said, eager for what was about to happen. “You have been armed. The cover of darkness will impede their accuracy.”

He turned his gaze on her, piercing even in the dark. A swell of emotion overtook his wide eyes, but only for a moment. He was braced for combat.

Hela gave the word.

The bullets fired. Her Executioner darted forward. Sparks lit the air in fiery bursts. 

The first man lost his life to the knife buried in his throat. The second and third, fired upon by the gun retrieved from his body. At close quarters the risk was great, and so for the last men the weapon was dropped and the artificial limb raised, palm out. 

Hela watched her borrowed power launch over the men in a wave. They crumpled at the touch of death.

She felt their sacrificed lives add to her stores.

Her Executioner went still, unmoving save for the breaths that filled his lungs. Undamaged. But his gaze was changed, a wildness flared to life on his face. He stared at her like he was not ready to stop fighting.

“At ease,” she said, stepping down from her platform. She formed another knife, handing it over to replace the one he’d used. “I promise I will find you more outlets once we reach land.”

She sought out Jack among the bodies, crouching beside him and cupping his slack face. “So your eyebrows _can_ relax,” she said to his unhearing ears. “I thought maybe your face was just stuck like that.” 

Jack, of course, didn’t answer. 

Hela looked over her shoulder, directing a pleased grin at her audience. “Want to see what real power looks like?”

\----------

“Loki,” Thor’s voice carried through the speakers. “Hugin has found them. They are not underwater.”

Loki did not bother to open the door. He teleported himself from the chamber, letting the vibranium in the mines all at once sing agony into his unprotected nerves. He was distantly aware of the Avengers and the princess’s physical reactions of surprise to his sudden appearance. 

He felt the screaming of the world through his skin reflect the intensity of the thoughts that raced through his mind. Somehow, he managed to fight through them both to stay standing. 

He did not bother to attempt to control the swirls of power churning beneath his skin, green lights flaring to life within him and condensing at his fingertips. 

“ _Show me_.”

They moved aside to allow him access as the princess adjusted the visuals of her sand table, enlarging two connected circular shapes in the center of undulating waves. The Raft, torn apart, now reconnected with large spines that formed bridges between the two pieces, creating a ragged infinity symbol. 

The scene on their surface was chaos. A single body darted towards the others, moving with careful and quick violence and a familiar fight pattern. The shapes standing against it were viciously dispatched, one after another.

But Loki did not care about them. He only had eyes for the victor, his gaze seeking out the telltale metal arm as his heart thrust into a wild gallop. _Alive,_ he thought, _he is alive._ He cursed himself for being a fool. He should have known, he should have _stayed_ -

“Barnes,” the Falcon said, before glancing at the Captain, whose eyes were intent on the display.

“He’s alive,” the Captain breathed, and for all their spoken words of hope he seemed surprised.

“And this is Hela,” Princess Shuri said, waving her hand over the second figure still yet standing. The form grew, and details of energy signals within Hela’s body came into being in a bright glow. The princess stared at a secondary screen that was listing information taken from the readings in a textual format. “The dampener has been removed.”

“We thought that might be a possibility,” the Captain said, now squaring his shoulders. A soldier preparing for battle. 

Thor hefted the reforged pieces of Gungnir. “Then what are we waiting for?” He met Loki’s eyes, a silent promise that the truce between them would remain until they finished what they needed to finish.

The Widow peered close at the sand table. “If those are the STRIKE agents, then Barnes just killed them all. And Hela’s not attacking him. She just armed him. They’re not fighting.”

“Son of a bitch,” the Falcon muttered. “Well, like Cap said, shouldn’t be a surprise, even if it’s going to make things a hell of a lot harder on us.”

“You are not seriously considering he took her side,” Loki said, remembering the sickness that coated the Wolf's expression every time he spoke of his fears of harming people.

“He might be working an angle,” the Widow said. “But he did just execute ten people in less than a minute.”

“They were firing on him,” the Captain said. “It was self defense.”

“I’m sure the Marshals are gonna be real forgiving of that fact if they end up out there to see it,” the Falcon said. 

Loki bared his teeth. “All the more reason to kill Hela and get him to safety as quickly as possible.”

The princess made a choked gasp of a noise, her hand quickly slamming over her mouth as her brow crumpled. When Loki looked at her, she shook her head. “The scans,” she started, then shook her head again, harder. “No, there is something wrong. Hela’s power must be somehow interfering with the readings.”

“The scans do not matter,” Loki vehemently snarled. “Command Hugin to release the energy signal and I will take us to them.”

“Do as he says,” Thor said. “We can observe the science of it after we have stopped her.”

The Widow moved to view the data alongside the princess. Her brow furrowed in confusion. “This is saying that Hela is the only visible life sign.”

“She can hide signs of life,” the Falcon said. “Why isn’t she hiding her own?”

“She’s doing something,” the Captain said, frowning as he watched the feed with careful scrutiny. “To one of the bodies.”

Loki felt like he could scream - all that waiting, and now they were simply wasting _time_. “She will not be doing anything as soon as you _release_ me to end her life.”

“Loki,” Princess Shuri snapped, her stricken gaze coming up to his face. “Look.” 

She adjusted the projections over the sand table, and the glow of Hela’s form became visually detailed with multicolored threads that dispersed her entire being, teeming with magic and life. She was crouched above one of the fallen, which by contrast was a dull, muted grey.

That was, until her hands pressed against it. Tendrils stretched from her fingers and palms, drawing light from her and stretching it into the thin pathways of blood and nerves, soaking her power deep within.

The princess reached over the sand table to Bucky’s form, placing the figure in her palm. She ran her hand over the top of his head, changing the visual into the same detailed view being used with Hela. 

The only energy presented in Bucky was shown in very thin branching threads that condensed in his brain, heart, and the stores of his arm. They matched the color of Hela’s magic perfectly.

The same that was now infiltrating the corpse she touched. 

“Tell me this isn’t possible,” Princess Shuri demanded, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. 

“It isn’t possible,” Loki responded, deftly avoiding the yawning pit that she was pushing him towards.

The Falcon suddenly gave a sharp curse. “You guys might want to see this.”

Loki did not need to see. He needed to kill. 

But, reluctantly, his eyes went to the rest of the visuals being sent by Hugin. Hela had moved on to the next closest body, .

The first was beginning to twitch.

“What does it mean?” Thor demanded.

Loki could feel the scream inside of him beginning to build again, the yawning pit inching ever closer. _It means nothing,_ he wanted to say, but the words were caught in his throat. 

“She is the Goddess of Death,” he said instead, his voice sounding as if it was coming from someone else.

The Captain’s expression was beginning to break at the edges. “She’s a necromancer,” he said.

“You’re screwing with me,” the Falcon said, the panic in his eyes backed by a looming grief. 

Even the Widow was beginning to show visible horror as the first body curled up, moving itself into a sitting position. “She brings the dead back to life.”

Thor’s expression darkened further as understanding bloomed. “Or some version of it.”

Loki felt as if his heart and stomach had switched places and torn his lungs apart on their way.

_It is not possible, it is not possible, it is not possible-_

_The princess’s technologies do not falter. The only sign of life is Hela._

_It’s only what you already knew in your heart._

“I was right,” Loki said, voice whisper-thin. The spreading numbness he felt at his core coated his words. “He is dead. I was right.”

The others turned their gazes on him in shock. 

The pit beneath Loki swallowed him whole.

He thought he heard someone laughing on his way down.


	12. Chapter 12

The world had fallen out of reach. Or rather, _he_ had fallen out of reach of the world, to some nebulous place beyond the brink. 

He could still see. Light like daggers piercing through his eye sockets. He could still hear the sound that screeched and coalesced around him, setting fire to his mind. Could still feel the molten heat that radiated beneath him, a focal point at his knees that burned upwards through his legs.

He could not move to escape it. He was suspended in tar, unable to rise or sink, held just beneath the surface.

Drowning again.

A harsh voice sounded, brimming with the promise of thunderous wrath. “He was not being violent, now remove your imprisonment.”

Something small within him recognized the danger of that anger, knew it for the herald of crushing blows and jagged lightning. He remembered a weight on his chest, immovable, crushing his lungs.

It was better to hide. Better to stay beneath, in the tar, to fold himself deeper and deeper into darkness, until he was far enough down that nothing could ever find him again. 

He’d had that, once. He’d thought it the worst fate that life could offer. Now, he longed for it.

A softer voice came, just as angry, and no less dangerous. The bearer of the mind whose inventions had shattered him. “What is wrong with you? Do you honestly think I would trigger the stasis while he is like _this?_ ”

“Then why will he not move?”

He was still not deep enough. With every noise pain tore through his nerves like birds on carrion. His thoughts fizzed and leapt, a wounded animal that screamed and beat itself bloody against the walls.

“Sometimes he...when he is experiencing trauma, Bucky has told me that he does not always lash out. Sometimes he does...this.”

A third voice, calm and firm, with the trappings of concern overlaying confusion. “Shuts down. Like on the Raft.”

The fourth, cool and distant. “A nervous system that hyper-sensitive would be really easy to overload. He can’t run from it, so instead he’s closing himself off to protect himself.”

Another voice, somber but kind. It still added to the chaos, made him clamp down further. “Looks like he’s pretty far gone. Did Barnes happen to say what he did to help when it happened?” 

“He would either talk or play music for him. Or just sit. Be there, so Loki was not alone. He always made sure to speak about it afterwards to see if the cause was something that could be fixed or avoided.” 

“Any idea how long it usually takes for him to come back?”

“It depends. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours.”

“We do not have _time_ for hours. Loki-”

“Hey! Keep yourself back. If he reacts-”

“Then he will be doing more than he is now.”

“Sweet Bast - or you could cause him to withdraw _even more_ by yelling in his face.”

“She’s right, give the man some space. Keep things quiet.”

“I don’t think quiet is going to be much help. At least, not in an immediate sense. Loki’s fixation on Barnes was the only thing that kept him agreeing to work with us.”

“It’s not over. Bucky’s still standing. There has to be something we can do to keep him that way.”

“Loki doesn’t believe there is. And...he has no reason to.”

“Nat-”

“I’m sorry, Steve. I don’t know what this is any more than you do. But those men are coming back, and Barnes isn’t fighting Hela.”

“The trigger words were removed. She can’t have control of his mind.”

“Gonna agree with Cap. Barnes in Winter Soldier mode tends to only have one set facial expression, and it’s a lot more homicidal caveman than what he’s got going on now.”

“Thor, do you have any idea what to do about this form of magic?”

“There are legends of draugr, mortal creatures brought back to life, but I have never personally encountered them or seen any such spells attempted. Asgard’s vaults contain a treasure that is said to have this ability.”

“Wait, you guys have something that can raise the dead just laying around in storage?”

“My father took custody of it a long time ago to prevent its improper use. Anyone who attempted to interact with it would have been set upon by the Destroyer, and their lives ended. Which is why I have no doubt that Loki studied its workings at length when we were younger.”

“So we get Loki up. We’re not doing this without him.”

“I took a scan. His brain is reacting. He is hearing us, and there are some internal reactions, but I do not know if he is processing the information.”

“Some of us might have to have Hugin send the signal and start alternative transport to Hela’s location. Our main priority right now should be getting Bucky out of there as soon as possible.”

“Which is definitely going to be a lot harder if we have Night of the Living Dead on our hands on top of losing our ace in the hole.”

“Hela’s slowing down. It’s getting harder for her to revive the bodies.”

“What about the ones she’s already done?”

“They’re awake, but they’re not up yet.”

“So it’ll be more like Night of the Sitting Dead.”

“This is _not_ a time for jests. It will take us too long to reach Hela if we must rely on one of your aircraft. Loki!” Sensation at his shoulders, fingers digging spires of hurt, cracking open his joints. “Get up. Hela’s defeat is within our grasp.” A shake, and his body was filled with hot coals that jumped and clashed and sent embers through his blood. “ _Get up._ I know you said you were done with Asgard. That is fine - well, no, it’s not fine - but what we are facing now is _much_ greater than that. You heard father. She will spread her violence throughout the realms. Even he could not permanently defeat her. Your power is the only thing that can.”

“Thor…”

“I know.” The wrath in the voice was dwindling, the words growing unsteady. “This is my father’s doing. Just as Hela’s imprisonment and her sudden return is his doing. He shattered Loki’s mind by abandoning him to his torment. If I had...if I had known any of that, I would not have left him there. I would have come to Earth and pulled him free before, before - damn it all, Loki, _wake up!_ ”

Electricity carved through him in a violent torrent, sending his back arching and ripping his voice from his throat in a piercing howl.

He shuddered in the aftermath, ears ringing from his own voice, the disjointed distance to his thoughts fading. His limbs slowly came back under his control, his flesh tingling as his muscles twitched. 

Thor’s furious face was before him, teeth bared, eyes still sparking with the remnants of lightning. Loki could smell the burn of it on the air as he stared back, chest heaving, his mind slow to remember.

The Avengers. Wakanda. _Bucky._

Thor’s expression softened in eagerness, the blinding sparks fading from his eyes. “It worked,” he said, sounding both shocked and relieved. “Loki-”

Loki recoiled violently from Thor’s grasp, snarling, wrenching free with such strength that he nearly collapsed before he regained his balance and climbed unsteadily to his feet. “Why bring me back,” he hissed, struggling to move freely through the lingering numbness. Thor advanced and he sharply retreated, keeping himself from the return of that scalding touch. “It was better where I was.”

Easier, to not need to decide. Now he had returned, where the sun yet burned and the world still turned, and he had nothing left.

His staggered escape brought him within clear sight of the sand table. It displayed Hela, her headdress stretched out like a spider's legs. Some of the fallen soldiers around her were in the process of rising, their movements slow and uncoordinated. She was already halfway done with her resurrections. 

Bucky stood near the edge of the Raft, knife in hand, terror clear on his face even through the small size of his figure. Loki remembered the princess’s scans, and the threads of Hela’s magic. The only signs of life remaining.

A low noise broke from him. He braced himself against the rim of the table, throat working, eyes locked onto the Wolf. His magic frothed with violence beneath his skin, a green echo to the white charge that had filled his brother only moments earlier.

Thor neared him with vehemence. “If I could change what father has done to you, I would.”

Loki could not help it - the laughter tore out of him once more, hysterical and ragged. He had to fight to keep his feet, hands gripping harder into the princess’s equipment as his mirth had him curling against it. “Only because it now suits your goals,” he gasped, his voice sounding strange to his ears. “Just as it suited Odin to attempt to keep me contained until Hela’s release.” 

“ _No_ , that is not _why._ You did not-” Thor sucked in a breath, then spoke with careful firmness. “You did not deserve what he did to you.”

Loki stilled, his humor vanished like wisps of smoke. His pounding heart felt as if it was morphing into something raw and bleeding. He stared at Thor, mired in his own helplessness.

Thor darted a pointed look towards the sand table. “And you did not deserve to have your friend die at Hela’s hands.”

Friend.

(“ _You’re one of my friends, too._ ”)

Loki’s breaths stuttered. Pain of a different kind rose within him, dull and blunt, but no less agonizing. He thought he would choke on it.

If only it were possible.

“Loki,” the Captain said, tone beseeching. His form was distorted through Loki’s blurring vision, the black star at his chest seeming to ripple and stretch. “What happens to Bucky if Hela dies?”

Loki clamped his eyes shut, tears coursing down to drip off his chin, leaving cold trails in their wake. “I do not know,” he answered, muscles trembling. The table beneath his hands was at risk of giving way. The princess would not be pleased, he distantly thought. “Such rejuvenation, when managed in most species...there is generally nothing left of what was, in terms of the original mind. Or else it is warped beyond all recognition. Any remnant would expire with time.” The next breath he took was a sharp spear through his lungs. “And even if Hela possesses the capabilities of such complete and prolonged revival, it means it is not just the body she now owns, but whatever parts of him would have left it in death.”

The Captain looked startled. “You’re talking about his soul.”

“If you’d like,” Loki said.

“It is magic of the darkest kind,” Thor said. The intensity of his voice still caused the pain in Loki’s head to ebb and flow in a mounting pressure. “Even my father would not risk its use. Hela’s ambitions are clearly great enough that she disregards such danger.”

“She’s paying a price,” the Widow said, pointing to Hela’s form. The confidence and poise demonstrated in their sister was beginning to fade as her back began to curve as if beneath a great weight. “She’s starting to get tired.”

The Falcon shifted on his feet, folding his arms tightly together. “Yeah, but tired for her doesn’t necessarily mean easy for us.”

“Before, her allies were only mortal,” Thor said. “Now their bodies are no longer truly responsible for maintaining their lives. Whoever attempts to kill them must be thorough. No part of the body can be left intact, or it may just rise again.”

The thought of Bucky kept lingering in such a state made nausea form, bile rising in an acrid rush to the back of his throat. Even worse, the more he observed the defensiveness in the stance of the Wolf’s figure on the table, the more he became convinced that it was no simple automaton. Not only a mindless corpse pulled back to life exhibiting the base reactions of the person it once was. There had to be some of Bucky left within it yet. 

It would only make his last days of awareness all the more terrifying.

The princess pressed Loki, her eyes nakedly desperate. “What theories do you have?”

Loki gave a slow shrug, wishing he could return to the abyss in his mind. “Perhaps her power is as permanent within them as it is on Asgard. Alternatively, if she is killed, there may be nothing left to sustain them.”

The Captain breathed out, his gaze intent on the scene on the table. “And if we send you in to teleport Bucky out…”

“It is likely within her power to end whatever spell revived him at will. If the distance from her does not sever the link first.”

The Falcon cursed under his breath, raising a hand to wipe down his face, like doing so could wipe free his knowledge of what was. 

“She might know already,” the Widow said, her own expression impeccably free of emotion. “She saw you together. She could be using Barnes to draw you in.”

“But if we don’t do anything, he’s just stuck like that,” the Falcon said. His body gave a short shudder, and he shook his head. “Do you think he knows?”

_What? That he is held together by string?_

_That the reason for his fall is that I failed him not once, but twice?_

_This is just another cruel twist by the Norns, to keep me dangling on this precipice until they wring from me whatever suffering they can manage._

“We need a sample of her energy so that I might make something better to counter it,” Shuri said, struggling for confidence in the wake of her despair, her eyes glued to her devices as she combed through every bit of information presented by Hugin’s scans. “Only using the stabilizers meant for Odin was not enough to defeat her permanently. What if you were to transport yourself to the lower levels of the Raft now, while they are still on top of it?”

Loki demonstratively held up his hand, and the green lights that hovered around it. “She would know as soon as I arrived,” he said. “And so would anyone monitoring the area, such as those US Marshals who fired upon us before.”

“Our main objective should be getting Bucky out of there safely,” the Captain said, as determined as ever.

Loki laughed, and felt the wild edge of it begin to press against the inside of his throat. He only just managed to shove it back before it consumed him. “It is far too late for that,” he said. “Now you are just insisting fire is water.”

The Widow rested her fingers against her chin and cheek. “Too late even for the most powerful being on the planet?”

Loki looked up, suspicion penetrating through the fog of weary despair. “Are you attempting to flatter me, Agent Romanoff.”

“No,” she said, her eyes presenting the look of openness and honesty. “As far as I know, it’s a statement of fact.” Her lips creased into a small smile, just a flash before it was gone. “And I’m not an agent anymore.”

“And yet, somehow, I fail to be inspired,” Loki said flatly. “You’ve spoken your concerns over my limitations in regards to control quite clearly. Not to mention repeatedly.”

She shrugged, as if that didn’t matter. “You’re physically invulnerable except to very specific technology. You have what basically amounts to limitless energy. I think the real question is, what _can’t_ you do?”

“I see what you are doing,” Loki said, the exhaustion pulling thicker at his limbs, the tenuous connection between his mind and body stretching like rubber. He could feel the pit creeping closer to his heels, and oh, how he wanted to throw himself back into it. “You spoke with rationality earlier. Now you are twisting your opinions to manipulate me.”

“That isn’t what she’s doing,” the Captain said, and now _he_ was coming forward, standing beside Thor and boxing Loki in beside the table. “I don’t know what we can say to make you believe us, but we’re on your side. This is just as much about helping you as it is about saving lives.”

“How kind of you,” Loki said dully. “It’s a pity the only life on your damned planet I held any fondness for is already snuffed out.” He bent his head, staring at the darkened marks on the vibranium sand from the descent of his tears. “Do you think you know me, Captain Rogers? You would convince me of my strategic value, when I have been repeatedly defeated by your righteous hands in the past. Once, if you’ll remember, was after I had gained this _limitless energy_ you would mention to reassure me of my own strength. The same energy that was the very reason I spent years in the dark, without air or relief.”

He could see the discomfort his words caused, especially for Princess Shuri, but he would not apologize for them. The vindictive pleasure from their reactions was ground down by the battering of his heart. The pit was beginning to gnaw at his ankles again, swarming tendrils up towards his head.

“You’re right,” the Captain said, breaking the tense silence. “I don’t know you.” His gaze went to the sand table, and Loki caught sight of it again, just for a moment - the flash of sorrow deep within his eyes before his expression reset itself. “But I do know Bucky. He saw something in you that he thought was worth helping.”

The Falcon chimed in. “Assuming you’ve met Barnes, you’d know he’s not exactly highest on the list of most likely to trust people.”

“He was my warden,” Loki said. “The proximity was required by his task. The very nature of our relationship was dictated by the very fact that I am untrustworthy.”

And yet in the months past he had begun to live for the times when the rigid set of the Wolf’s broad shoulders finally relaxed, an absurd pride forming when such a reaction had been his doing. 

“Barnes lets you into his personal space,” the Widow said, as if she could read his thoughts. "Maybe he’s more of a people person now, but he spent two years avoiding Steve and Sam.”

“It’s true,” Princess Shuri said, effortlessly joining them in their attempts to increase the pressure of their insidious words. “The first time he met Anwuli I thought he was going to run all the way back to America. The first time he met you, he ignored my brother’s orders to run _back_ to you.”

“No accounting for the guy’s taste,” the Falcon muttered. 

“He vouched for you,” the Captain said, expression soft. “And he didn’t leave you behind because he was afraid you’d mess up. He wanted to protect you.”

Loki’s breaths hitched, because while the Widow could utilize falsities with grace, the Captain held no such skill, nor even seemed to have the desire for it. 

He shook his head all the same. “And all the good that will do, when Hela finally withdraws her power and leaves his cold corpse to rot.” 

But even as he said the words, he could feel it: the stirrings of some idea bubbling up. He tried to shake it off, ignore it, but it was as relentless as a lion’s fangs clamped into the throat of its prey.

Limitless energy. 

His mind spiraled faster, schemes and strategies beginning to take root. Once they began, they would not stop. 

_Oh,_ he thought. _Of course._

There was every chance it would not work. Or else completely dismantle what Loki was trying so hard to regain in its implementation. 

And if it _did_ work...it could mean the end of everything, in spite of the success. Because the end point to the path that Loki envisioned would require him to don a mask of a version of himself that was long dead.

But here he was. And no matter how many Norns-damned times he could tell himself and everyone else that it was not worth it, that it did not matter, fate dragged him along inch by inch to scrape out whatever crumbs of hope remained.

It would have been better if his mind had been lost, and he could remain unaware forever. Yet he was always dragged back.

The pitiful hope stuck. Just like that, and with full knowledge that he could teleport himself to Bucky in the blink of an eye, he could no longer _not_ try. With the realization, a desperate terror began to unfold within him. 

For now, however faint, he believed he had something to lose.

_The road with all of the stakes, then. You utter fool._

_You owe him at least this much._

“Princess,” Loki said.

She was instantly near, attentive, hope brightening her face in a spreading bloom. “You have something.”

 _Maybe._

He somehow managed to tear his eyes from the sand table completely. “I need to speak with you alone in the experimental chamber.”

He moved quickly, but was immediately brought to a pause by Thor’s voice, full of command. “No.”

Loki turned, seeing that the princess had not moved to follow him. Her expression had gone uncertain, but she still sent Thor a brief glare.

Loki set his face into a blank mask even as his magic moved in aggravated darts around him. “Is there a problem?”

“You are planning on going off on your own,” Thor accused. “Speak your plan here so that we all may hear it.”

Loki felt his anger, beaten down, stir to life again. “Very well. My plan involves none of you perishing. If any one of you face Hela, even banded together, she will kill you.” He smiled then, and it felt ragged. Uneven. “You spoke it yourself, Thor. I must be the one to deliver the final blow against her. And if I cannot...Earth’s surrender may be the prudent choice.”

“You know that we won’t,” the Captain said.

“No,” Loki said, unsurprised. “And this time you will die for it.”

“We know where Hela is located,” Thor said. “She is not at risk of reaching Asgard from the middle of the ocean. I can call our army down to face her.”

Loki felt an unkind noise burst from his throat. “So you would have her gain more power at the same time she slaughters your people.” 

Thor’s face spasmed into something full of rage and grief. He would do no such thing. Mighty Thor, defender of the innocents, would not even risk Asgard’s warriors sacrificing themselves on Hela’s blades. Just as he had risked none of them when he and Loki had gone to face Malekith.

But Loki, he could risk. Would risk. 

The echoes of phantom pain dug into Loki’s chest, memories of a wound blackened by tainted blood. 

He shook his head, indicating the magic that floated about him. “Let Odin’s monsters face each other. It will be a fitting fight.”

The Falcon raised his eyebrows, voice dry. “As reassuring as it is when you put it that way...you just came back from a meltdown. Are you ready to take something like this on without backup?”

 _It does not matter,_ Loki wanted to say, again and again. “She desires Asgard’s throne. Whether now or when this world is ashes, she will come for me. It is within my best interests to end it.”

The Captain watched him with assessing eyes, holding himself in a steady stance. But Loki had seen into his grief, and knew it had far from faded. “Can you help Bucky?”

Loki looked down at his hands, and felt the trailing scrape of his nail over skin. “It is the only thing that I want more than Hela’s lifeless body cast to the farthest reaches.”

“That’s not exactly a yes,” the Falcon noted, still clearly unsure.

Loki smiled, though it was small and bitter. “As Miss Romanoff said...what is there in this world that is beyond my power?” 

The answer to that question was a list so staggering as to be comical. But they would not agree with him if he let on that he truly believed otherwise. 

“So you would go alone,” Thor said, discontent bleeding into every consonant. 

Loki lowered his hands and presented his brother with a tight smile. “I am terribly sorry Thor, but unless Odin has even more mad siblings of yours he’s locked away in secret, I will have to have the honor of defeating the only one left.”

Thor’s expression closed off but for the storm that lingered in his eyes. His gaze went to Gungnir, now layered with vibranium to seal the recovered pieces together. He lifted it and rested the spear horizontally across his palms, gleaming silver and gold. Then he extended his arms, presenting the weapon.

Loki had expected more arguments and delays. He eyed the spear warily. “What are you doing?”

“Gungnir defeated her before,” Thor intoned, as if what he was doing was not completely mad.

Loki creased his brow and let out a disbelieving huff. “You mean thousands of years ago and before it exploded against her side.”

“That was the dampener’s doing,” Princess Shuri said, with no small amount of smugness. 

Thor stepped closer with his insistent offering. “You will need all of the help you can get.”

Loki breathed in air through flared nostrils. “Gungnir is your weapon, now. Not mine. It belongs to the King of Asgard.”

“Then you had better make sure you return it,” Thor said, with a touch of irony.

Loki did not move.

“The procrastination’s starting to stretch too much, fellas,” Romanoff said, indicating the table. “Remember earlier when I said Barnes wasn’t fighting Hela?”

Loki turned his gaze to the table, and felt his heart skip its next beat. Bucky’s still posture was changing into a readiness for offensive violence. Hela was crouched with her back to him, a clear path between them that the Wolf could cover in a matter of seconds.

The flood of panic Loki felt was reflected in Rogers as he tightened up in horrified realization. “He’s going to attack her,” Rogers said. “He’s waiting for her to be at her weakest.”

They had been watching a countdown and had not even realized it. If the Wolf succeeded in bringing down his prey...

“I must go,” Loki said, and when he turned in an attempt to get to the princess, Thor blocked his way.

“You try your plan,” Thor quickly said, all but shoving Gungnir towards Loki. “And we will watch. I do not care how powerful you have become. I am _tired_ of watching you die.”

Loki hesitated. 

Princess Shuri’s sound of exasperation cut through the air. “Are you serious? Just _take it_ ,” she said, gesturing emphatically.

Wilson was nearly bouncing upon the balls of his feet. “Yeah, get the hell out there already. Hela’s almost finished bringing back STRIKE.”

Loki swallowed. It _would_ be quite cruel to rub in Hela’s face that which she was never getting.

He accepted the spear with cautious care. Its strength was changed, less now the magic of Asgard. It still held considerable power, which layered easily with his magic. The vibranium in the haft seemed to pulse against his palm.

He placed it upright against the ground beside him. “Princess,” he said. “You should remove your beads.”

She tensed, but her hand strayed to her wrist even as she darted her gaze anxiously to the sand table. “What are you thinking?”

“That I have made many mistakes that I need to correct, and far too much debt that I can never hope to repay.”

Her eyes glittered. “Life is not about debt. Bucky does not expect anything from you.”

“And I do not care what he thinks, so long as he continues thinking.” _Liar,_ his mind supplied. _You cared so much that you lost him in the first place._

A vague hope began on her face. Her motions brought her closer to pulling free what he needed. “You really have an idea?”

“Yes. It will be complicated and delicate. You will have to keep watch for your part in it.” He allowed his energy to stretch out in readiness. A form coalesced behind him.

Her eyes widened.

“That’s a neat trick,” the Falcon commented.

Loki ignored him. “You understand, now,” he said to the princess. “We have wasted enough time.” He stepped forward, reaching gently for her hand. His fingers pressed against the beads wrapped about her wrist, cautious. He thought that despite her words, despite their brief but intense history, she would deny him. 

He saw the fear in her eyes, breaking through the fatigue that lined her expression from the long hours awake. “This had better work,” she said. 

“It will,” Loki said. The princess made a gesture, and the beads came free.

“Save him,” she demanded. “Bring him home.”

Loki held them tight. “Thank you.” He crushed them in his palm.

He promised himself that Hela would feel regret before he was done.


	13. Chapter 13

In a century of living, Bucky had seen and done a lot. 

Sure, a good portion of that had technically been spent cryogenically frozen, but he felt like a lot of what he _had_ done while he was awake more than made up for the stretches where he was in stasis. In all of that time, he’d been thrown into a whole heap of situations where he’d been in over his head. And, though he usually tried like hell to avoid doing it, he’d even thrown himself into them once or twice. A lot of those instances hadn’t exactly turned out that great, with various rankings on just how far up shit’s creek he’d managed to find himself each time. 

If he had to rank the current setting, on a scale of one to ten, he’d probably go with a solid seventeen.

Rollins had moved himself into a sitting position, his dark gaze leveled at Bucky, his eyes eerily blank. But he was up. He was stable. He was existing like he _hadn’t_ just had a gory, personalized experience of what it was like to have a knife stabbed through his throat. There was still blood staining his front, but the wound itself was gone, leaving not even so much as a hint of a scar over his trachea. 

The rest of STRIKE were in differing stages of rising. The ones that had managed to pull themselves into a sitting position matched Rollins perfectly, staring vacantly at nothing. 

_Breathe,_ Bucky thought through his reeling emotions. _Assess. Find an opening._

_What opening, Barnes? You already killed them all!_

That wasn’t the biggest problem. Bucky’s hand had begun to repeatedly stray to the hole in his jacket, fingers prodding against the skin beneath. A coldness inside of him started to compete with the temperature from the ocean mist, the damp and wind that chilled the skin of his face.

STRIKE had known what was going to happen already. They’d been convinced Hela could bring them back after Bucky took them out.

Rollins had told him Hela had _saved_ him.

He thought he was going to be sick. Somewhere in him there was a scream that wanted to claw its way up. His prosthetic felt like it was weighing him down, Hela’s magic churning like a black hole in its stores. He clutched the new knife in numb fingers, trying not to think about how easily he’d been manipulated into doing what Hela had wanted, and unable to stop thinking about it anyway.

Maybe throwing himself into the ocean wasn’t the worst idea.

Hela was almost to the last corpse. She’d been trying to cover it up, but Bucky could see how much the work was taking it out of her. Whatever she was doing, however much of herself she needed to give up to make this happen…it was weakening her.

He took in a steadying breath, shoving through his aversion and focusing through the sensors in the arm, through Hela’s darkness and searching for the energy that would take it out. Instead, he brushed up against the stores of a different stabilizing energy entirely, almost completely buried as to be unnoticeable in the swarm of death that surrounded it. It was the energy meant for Loki that Bucky kept to implement during their sparring sessions to help even the playing field. Among other things.

He forced himself to skip over it, to ignore the twisting fist around his heart and seek out the other stabilizing energy, which was obvious when he found it - as much as Hela’s magic attempted to seep into everything, it couldn’t get in close to the power that would nullify it.

He looked back up. Hela was moving laboriously into a crouch over the last body. Her head was hanging low, like the crown of horns on her head was too heavy for her to keep up.

He figured it was now or never. He didn’t have anything to lose. 

_Yes, you do,_ his mind tried in vain.

The STRIKE agents weren’t mobile yet, their eerie gazes still flooded with the echoes of death. They couldn’t stop him. 

Hela’s head wearily dipped forward.

Bucky dropped the knife and charged. 

His boots pounded loudly against the Raft’s surface. He saw Hela’s shoulders come up as she heard him coming, but she was moving too slow. It was going to work. 

A flash of green blinded him.

He collided with a body and was wrenched off his feet, thrown sharply downwards, the back of his head slamming against - something not metal. He drew his prosthetic up, recognized the form above him, and froze.

Loki. 

Loki, crouched over him and bracing his hand under Bucky’s head, backed by the opaque green shield that surrounded them, blocking the bite of the ocean air and filling the world with brightness. 

He was holding Odin’s spear, the cracked lines along the gold fused into silver. The glowing lights around his body were going _wild_ , darting in a hectic swarm of power. A few strays flew out of the mass to crash against the floor around them, bouncing in a hiss of melting metal. 

“Don’t say anything,” Loki said. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d been crying. Like he was still thinking of crying. His forehead pressed against Bucky’s, viciously quick. “There is no time. I am sorry. You have to trust me.”

There wasn’t even time for a nod in response before the green shield around them fell, the world devolving into nearly pitch black as Bucky’s eyes struggled to readjust to the loss of light. From his new position he saw something in the sky, a small form flapping its wings as it circled.

The raven.

Bucky lurched up, only for Loki’s hand to clamp over the front of his tactical armor and heave him out of the way with enough violence that he had to clamp his hand into the Raft, sparks rising with a shrill shriek as he skidded to a stop just before he could drop off the edge into the ocean. He shook the hair out of his eyes and pulled himself into a wary crouch, wishing for once he was in a situation where he didn’t feel so damn unbalanced. 

Loki was facing down Hela, the spear held in his hands at a ready angle. Bucky could just make out his profile, and knew that Loki was positioned to keep him in his peripheral vision. In the dark, the lights around him swirled like glowing stars, condensing and dispersing in an ethereal aura, stretching overhead and illuminating the surface of the Raft.

They also highlighted Hela’s complete lack of surprise as she turned to greet him. “Baby brother,” she said, rising with movements as smooth as an eel’s. “I was wondering when you would finally drop by.”

Loki smiled bitterly. “Your signal was received.” 

Hela made an amused sound, pacing along her side of the Raft in an easy prowl. “I will say, your timing could have been better. I’m not exactly quite finished here.” She stepped over to one of the STRIKE members, sliding a sharp nail beneath his jaw. He moved with her like an automaton. “Getting the brain to restart is always the hardest part.”

Loki raised his chin, voice dry. “I’ll have to assume that was a statement of self-reflection.”

Hela’s expression changed in an instant from smooth confidence to sneering disdain. A rumble in the structure beneath them was all the warning given as dozens of swords erupted upward and into the air, converging on Loki in a concentrated hail. 

Bucky started, but Loki didn’t even move to dodge the blades - he just let them break apart against his body. His only reaction to the attack was a soft noise and a tightening around his eyes. 

Bucky had seen what Loki could do, knew what he could endure, but that still didn’t make the sight of it any less staggering. He kept himself down, not wanting to draw focus; he still had his trick up his sleeve, but getting in between a superpowered god and his homicidal sister would only go one way for him.

Hela gestured deeper, and the Raft snapped and groaned as a second wave of swords rose up. This time, Loki snarled and swung the spear to repel them in a flaring lash of gold and green that shot into the air like a firework.

Hela finally paused in her attacks, eyes narrowing in disdain. “What did you do to Gungnir?”

“It’s been reforged,” Loki said, a twitch running through his shoulders and down his back. The swords might not have damaged him, but it looked like his sensitivity to touch still made his skin crawl with the contact. “Apologies if you had been planning for a symbolic tearing-down of Asgard’s current kingship.”

Hela raised her eyebrows. “Symbolic? Oh, darling - I’m a much bigger fan of being quite literal when I tear my enemies apart. Executioner,” she commanded, the return of her attention sending a jolt down Bucky’s back. “Now is our time.”

Loki stiffened, his eyes darting towards Bucky in realization. “She made you her Executioner.”

Hela held her hand out and that was all the warning Bucky had before all of the energy in his arm came screaming out of him in a direct line towards her, lashing against Loki’s back on its way and dissipating in writhing froths of black as it failed to cause any damage. 

Until the stabilizing energy Bucky kept stored for their sparring sessions was ripped out of the prosthetic along with the rest of the flood, cutting right through the firefly lights in a streak of gold and bursting in a crackling explosion against Loki’s body.

Loki’s cry of pain went right through Bucky’s chest, churning up a well of panicked rage as he watched him fall to one knee, back curved in agony. Bucky leapt up, but before he could take more than a single running step Loki threw a straight shot of green magic towards him. The arc went wide, but still close enough to singe his jacket and the outermost layer of his skin. Bucky came to an abrupt halt, hand pressed over the sting, belatedly remembering that he wasn’t wearing his beads. He caught sight of Loki’s expression, pained but desperately angry, before he turned his attention back to Hela.

“See, now _that_ worked better than I expected,” Hela said, expression smug.

She _couldn’t_ have known that was what was going to happen, Bucky thought, still staring at Loki in shocked horror, the sensors in his prosthetic aching from having the energy torn out of him. 

Loki’s power had weakened from taking such a huge hit. What was left of the lights around him clustered close in small, agitated starts. His long fingers curled against the Raft, clenching down over the spear and bending the metal of the floor as he gripped into it, breathing in shudders as he struggled to get through the pain. 

His back had to be a mass of reddened, blistering skin beneath his clothes. And the cell damage done to it wouldn’t fade quickly with such a concentrated hit.

Hela grinned in triumph. “Little brother,” she said, and Bucky saw Loki’s bared teeth grind down harder. “Did you really think I would expose myself to your discovery without a plan?” Her hands twisted up in clawed shapes, immediately signalling another rumble in the Raft.

Bucky didn’t think - he raced forward, uncaring of whether or not Loki could take care of himself, and lashed out with a portion of the stabilizing energy meant for Odin as soon as the first swords burst upwards towards Loki’s back. 

Loki immediately turned on him, terror flashing through his eyes before it faded into frustration and Bucky didn’t even have time to properly react as Loki turned on _him_ instead, his hand over Bucky’s neck and wrenching him down to the Raft’s surface. Bucky’s overdriven instincts nearly had him slamming his fist up to defend himself, but Loki locked the spear against his forearm as soon as his prosthetic so much as geared up for an attack. 

Bucky swallowed, staring up as what was left of the firefly lights flickered and darted in scalding vibrations that came too close to Bucky’s skin. Loki’s eyes were glowing green, he was panting through his teeth, and even diminished the energy he produced made Bucky feel like he was in danger of just combusting on the spot. 

Then Loki mouthed two words to Bucky.

_“Fight me.”_

_Why,_ Bucky thought, heart racing, staring at Loki hard enough like that would help him look through his eyes and into his head. _What are you doing? Why can’t you kill her?_

Bucky took a single breath, braced himself, then lashed upwards to dislodge the spear, following through on the movement until his fist smashed against Loki’s cheek. Loki took the hit, barely moving from the force. A slash of a smile spread over his face; his fingers tightened warningly over Bucky’s neck.

A thrill coursed down Bucky’s back and he punched out in a flash of Loki’s power, sending him to the side for half a second before he was back, relentless, _fast_ , his hand easily pinning down Bucky’s prosthetic. 

All at once, his grip tightened to severe levels, the arm sending warning signals of overload and pressure, firing through Bucky’s nerves until he bared his teeth with a groan of discomfort and tried to heave Loki off.

It was like trying to lift a tank. It was like trying to lift a _dozen_ tanks. Even with the strength of the vibranium in the arm preparing itself to the fullest extent, even with the rest of Bucky’s body braced, Loki didn’t so much as fidget. 

Bucky grunted, reaching for the reserves of Loki’s magic that he’d absorbed, but Loki noticed immediately and violently rolled him onto his front, yanking the prosthetic behind his back before he pulled him to his knees. The bladed point of the spear pressed against the front of his throat, only coming to a stop when Bucky brought his free hand up to grip into Loki’s forearm. Before he could struggle in earnest or send out a blast of energy to get Loki off of him, the hand holding his wrist behind his back loosened and clamped instead about his palm.

Bucky went still, panting. The hand over his squeezed, for just a moment. He flashed on images of Loki beneath him, spread on a metal table. He remembered the noises.

The blade against his neck stayed firm. Loki’s lights drew in close, becoming less chaotic as they swirled around them.

“Executioner,” Hela said, her form somehow darker than the night that surrounded her. “You’re not really allowing yourself to be bested so easily, are you?”

She apparently hadn’t noticed Bucky stop her attacks. That wasn’t one hundred percent reassuring, especially considering the position he found himself in now.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Loki asked, voice amused but still strained from pain. “I am the most powerful being on this planet. He knows that well, since I spent the last several months as his prisoner.”

Bucky felt the words like a gut punch. It didn’t matter if they were an act, if this was all part of some idea Loki was executing to take down Hela, like Bucky _hoped to hell_ he was doing - it was still the truth. 

Hela eyed the two of them dubiously, her gaze switching repeatedly between one and the other. “ _You_...were this man’s prisoner.”

“Just as you were nearly theirs,” Loki said, still casual, removing the spear to gesture expansively at the Raft. He clamped it quickly back into place before Bucky could relax. “And ‘was’ is definitely the operative word, being that I obviously recently freed myself.”

Was that what had happened? Bucky hadn’t seen anyone else around but Hugin. He didn’t know if there was a cloaked Quinjet somewhere in the skies above them waiting. It looked like Loki had come on his own, outside of any set radius that anyone with Stabilizing Beads would have imposed. 

“He told me that he sought to defend you against Odin,” Hela said, expression skeptical.

Loki’s torso rumbled with laughter against Bucky’s head, making him tense and jerk his chin up to avoid getting nicked by the spear. “And you hoped he would help you kill me? You should know that your Executioner is already intending to betray you.”

Bucky felt a shot of ice flood his veins. 

Hela paused, eyes glittering in the dark. “What?” 

Bucky felt it when her stare pierced him, like clawed hands clamping over his lungs and heart. His chest heaved and strained against the sensation as he told himself the feeling was just psychological, that it couldn’t be anything else.

He hoped whatever the fuck Loki was planning, he did it soon. 

“He carries the instrument of your demise in his metal arm,” Loki said. He pulled Bucky’s prosthetic out, like he was positioning the limb of a doll. “I can sense it, burrowed in the remains of your power. The same energy that was used to attack you upon your arrival after Odin’s death.”

Hela’s face creased into a snarl, before she rocked back on her heels, schooling her expression. “A byproduct of his removal of the dampener.”

“An intentional one,” Loki said, folding Bucky’s arm back again. “This man lives for the kill. Please tell me you did not expect that he was your friend.”

“Loki,” Bucky ground out, then cut off as Loki slid the spear closer. He pushed himself straighter to avoid it, going very still even as he felt stretched to his limits, his back a roaring ache at the awkward position. 

“Quiet, Wolf,” Loki said, the words an angry breath. “I am finally free of you.” 

Loki’s thumb rubbed circles against the palm of Bucky’s prosthetic in complete opposition to his words and tone, but Bucky was beginning to wonder a little wildly if that wasn’t his plan, if he was using their familiarity to keep Bucky docile while he did whatever this was. 

Something crossed Hela’s face, before she scrutinized Bucky more closely. She began to slowly approach, face pinched with suspicion. 

Bucky tried and failed to slow his breathing. The closer Hela got, the less the situation felt like a way to beat her and the more it felt like a trap.

But the firefly lights around Loki raged when Hela came within five feet, bouncing off the Raft and leaving char marks, hissing about in bolts of energy. She stopped her advance with a look of disgust.

“Before you lose yourself to your rage,” Loki said, his voice growing steadier. “I have a proposition.”

“I already propositioned you,” Hela said. Bucky wondered if he was imagining the sulky undertone to her voice. “And you refused. What makes it different this time?”

“I told you not to underestimate the humans,” Loki said. “They held me in their control when we last spoke, with devices similar to the one they used on you. I could do nothing but what they commanded me. Odin orchestrated the confinement, but then he died and your...interference removed my central warden from the picture. I was able to fool my lesser one and escape. You might remember her from our last encounter - a princess with incredible intelligence.”

“I can’t say I do,” Hela said dismissively, but her expression was becoming a bit more engaged. “So why shouldn’t I just take advantage of your current weakness and kill you now?”

“I could care less who sits on Asgard’s throne,” Loki said. “So long as it isn’t Odin.” He adjusted his grip on Bucky, like he was presenting him for inspection. “This man would better serve us alive. At least until you have gained enough power to...stand on your own.”

Bucky felt threads of cautious hope wind within him that his survival was presented as the first requirement of their agreement. That made it more likely that Loki was playing some sort of game, not betraying Earth and taking Bucky down with him, and not any of the dozens of other reasons that were whispering through Bucky’s head.

If this _wasn’t_ a ruse aimed at Bucky, he was going to end up with a much bigger appreciation of what exactly Loki had gone through in the days after they’d first pulled him out of the ground.

“What is your bargain,” Hela asked, impatience coloring her tone. “Get on with it, princeling. You’re boring me.”

Loki didn’t seem concerned with the threat. “You were right in choosing him as your ally, but he is too strong to simply be coerced by threats of death or pain.”

 _Thanks for the compliment,_ Bucky thought, even as he struggled to swallow without pressing into the spear at his throat. 

Hela narrowed her eyes doubtfully. “The humans managed it.”

“The humans burned out his mind using a specialized machine so he remembered nothing but that his will was to serve.”

The panic stirring beneath Bucky’s emotions grew sharper. He distantly wondered when and where Loki had gotten the exact details. The knowledge was clearly informing what Loki was doing now. He dug his fingers into Loki’s forearm, but his grip was implacable

Loki spoke smoothly over Bucky’s signal of distress. “I happen to have experience in such manipulation.”

 _It’s just an act,_ Bucky viciously told himself. _He’s lying to get her on his side for something. He has to be._

Another part of him wasn’t so sure. _He could take her out any time, even with his power downed. He could obliterate the entire Raft, disintegrate STRIKE and teleport the both of us out of here in the blink of an eye. There can’t be any good reason he’s drawing this out._

Not for the first time, Bucky wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into.

“You think he is a worthy warrior now?” Bucky couldn’t see the smirk that accompanied the words, but he could imagine it. Could hear it threading through Loki’s voice, setting the hairs on the back of his neck on edge. “The humans of this world whisper his name in terror. For seventy years he was considered nothing but a specter of death among their people.”

Bucky hadn’t needed that reminder. Not with STRIKE sitting across from him, stuck in some kind of in-between of life and death. He couldn’t make himself look at them for more than a second.

“I’ve heard the tales,” Hela said, her voice demonstratively flat. She placed her hand on her hip, examining her fingernails. “You did hear that thing I said earlier, about ‘getting on with it…’”

“Maybe you’ve heard the tales, but you have not truly seen it. He is too much weighed down by weakness for his efforts to be at their full potential. Allow me to mold his mind for you, and he will become the greatest Executioner you have ever seen.”

Bucky knew distantly that if this _was_ an act, the way he responded directly after those words were spoken was just going to make it all the more convincing. He was outside, in an expanse of open air, the stars glittering above and the ocean all around, and he could still feel the walls closing in on him. 

Loki’s fingers brushed softly against the grooves of his metal palm, changing sensations to draw his attention, before they pushed more firmly into the nerve receptors. 

Something inside of Bucky cracked open at that touch. He shuddered out a breath, trying to manage the chaos of the _guilt-fear-rage-guilt_ that pulsed in his head and the onslaught of memories that wanted to encroach to join it.

 _Okay,_ he thought tiredly, a small piece of himself burrowing down. _I don’t know what the hell you want me to do, but okay. I’m not gonna fight it. I’ll take the damn leap of faith._

“Such promises,” Hela said. She tilted her head in consideration. “How long will this...molding, take?”

“It will be a delicate process,” Loki said, and Bucky felt his hackles rise with even more strength, the tingle running all the way down his spine. “Too much energy and I risk scouring out his mind completely. The right balance may need hours. Especially if I am not to risk removing the threads you placed within him.” 

Bucky exhaled heavily. Hours was good. Hours stalled them for time, made it more likely that the others were out there being given time to gear up.

He tried not to read too far into the last statement. There was a good chance that whatever was on the other side...wouldn’t be something he could take. 

Hela looked surprised at Loki’s words, then impressed. “You still haven’t told me what _you_ will be getting out of this.”

“That’s because I assumed it was perfectly obvious. Vengeance, and my ensured freedom. Our only true threat here on Earth erased from existence.” Loki paused. “It would be better if you submerge your...what would you call this? A lair?”

“A fortress,” she corrected, demonstrating with a series of necroswords that sent chips of metal flying through the air as they broke down the Raft further. She gazed at them in mild disappointment. “I’ll admit it’s still a work in progress.”

“Very well, your fortress,” Loki said respectfully. “Take us into hiding.”

“And then you’ll take me to Asgard.”

Loki laughed, then abruptly stopped. “Oh,” he said. “You’re serious. You’re really that eager to return to the place that cast you out?”

Hela wasn’t amused. “I was not cast out by the _place_. I was imprisoned by Odin. And I am the rightful queen - I will have allies awaiting me there. An army’s worth, perhaps more. And even if I didn’t, my power lives deep in Asgard’s fortifications, and in its ground and mountains.”

“You mean you are chained to it, as much a prisoner of Asgard as you were whatever realm that Odin used to hold you.” Before she could get fully pissed off, Loki tilted his head. “What if I were to tell you that you could gain all of the power you could ever desire, and not be bound by physical connections to any particular place?”

What little ease Bucky had been trying to cultivate immediately vaporized. _What-_

“I know of several ways to do that already,” Hela said disinterestedly. 

“But I’ll hazard a guess none of them are on Earth,” Loki said. “Or pose as little of a challenge to acquire.” The green lights around him flared out, multiplying and swirling around Hela. Loki groaned softly as he stretched himself with the demonstration, his breaths going heavy and strenuous. “You didn't...really think that I was... _born_ with such might...did you?”

Bucky wished he could see Loki’s face. Wished Loki could see _his_ face, so he could know exactly what Bucky was thinking.

But maybe there was an angle, something Bucky hadn’t figured out yet, and if he ever wished there would be a time that he and Loki could sit and talk things out, it would be _now._

Hela paused. Her eyes ran over the lights that floated around her head, weaving between the obsidian points of her spiked crown. “I’m listening.”

“Not here,” Loki said, withdrawing his power, the relief clear in the way he quivered against Bucky. “This will go easier for us if the humans do not know when and where we mean to attack. And you can finish your...brain restarts, on your other allies.”

Hela smirked. “What? Did you really think I was idling while you rambled on?” She waved her arm, and the men kneeling behind her all suddenly shuddered and blinked rapidly, staring around in confusion. 

Bucky stopped breathing. He could see the fear on their faces, the remnants of whatever emotions they’d felt as he’d come at them in their last living moments. Or what should have been their last living moments.

They were lucky, he thought through the swirling nausea. None of his other marks, innocent or otherwise, had ever had the chance to wake up and face him after he’d fulfilled his mission. 

The Raft suddenly lurched down, along with Bucky’s stomach as Loki just managed to keep him from impaling himself against the spear with the violent movement. They were sinking, now with the unwieldy counterpart of the Raft’s top levels attached. Hela’s swords burst up around the perimeter of the conjoined pieces, layering upon each other until they stretched overhead, blocking out the light of the moon and stars, cutting off the ocean air. 

Hela approached, and this time Loki let her, though he switched his hand from Bucky’s palm back to his wrist, as if he was worried Bucky would risk attacking her again. She was clearly already more than recovered from the dip in her power that had happened when she’d revived STRIKE. “And what of my Executioner?”

“I will find a place within your fortress to safely store him so we might discuss our plan before he is converted.”

“Fine,” Hela said. “And if you can’t make the required adjustments, I’ll just finish him off.” She pouted, her nail tracing over Bucky’s scraped neck. “It will be a shame. But I’m not in the habit of taking prisoners.”

“I’ve noticed,” Loki said dryly. His hand around Bucky’s wrist tightened, a single tremble shaking against the metal.

Rollins walked over to them, his steps slowing as he stared warily at Loki. He turned to Hela. “What’s going on? Who the hell is that?”

“My brother,” Hela said, her pout replaced with a pleased smile. “He’s agreed to help us by augmenting my Executioner’s mind so betrayal will no longer linger in his thoughts.”

Rollins frowned, glancing at Bucky. “You mean he’s going to wipe him.”

( _“Wipe him.”_ ) Bucky could feel the words behind his clamped teeth, along with a phantom branching of pain that shot through his muscles. 

“Nothing as crude or impermanent as the methods your organization employed,” Loki said, his thumb tracing along a groove in Bucky’s wrist. Bucky focused on it, grateful to be grounded, even if his current reality could use a hell of a lot of improvement.

Rollins was looking at Loki intensely. Shock overtook his features. “Wait. _He’s_ your brother?”

“You know him,” Hela said, with some surprise. 

“He tried to invade Earth,” Rollins said. “Messed with the minds of a bunch of high-ranking SHIELD agents and scientists and got them to defect. Then brought an army down and caused mass casualties in New York.”

“A simple game,” Loki said airily. “Mostly a jab to annoy my brother. I wasn’t actually terribly interested in ruling.”

And that, Bucky knew, had to be a lie. 

Hela was suddenly looking at Loki with a new respect. “And Odin locked you away.”

“And Odin locked me away,” Loki repeated.

Something delighted was dancing in Hela’s eyes. “Everyone get below,” she said. “We will be submerging to avoid notice for the time being. But we will be making our way towards a new target.”

Rollins scowled. “Where?”

Hela looked pointedly at Loki. “Well?”

Loki didn’t even hesitate. “The people of Earth call it Wakanda.”


End file.
